Make No Mistake
by RavenclawGenius
Summary: Swan Queen: Emma was used to never getting what she wanted, but maybe this time could be different. Slow burn.
1. The Dress

Oh, God.

Oh, _God._

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.

Oh, God.

Emma's brain stumbled and flopped uselessly against the inner walls of her skull as the vulgar mantra repeated itself over, and over, and over again.

Because–

Because, oh _god._

Regina was dark and beautiful and graceful, and practically bleeding sensuality from her _pores_, and Emma _wanted_.

Emma wanted to wreck her. Emma wanted to smudge the apple red lipstick right off her mouth and track it down her collar, only to cover it with a bright, domineering bruise forged from the line of her own teeth. Emma wanted to ruck up the skirt of that sinfully obscene black dress and just take her – take her anywhere; everywhere; all over goddamn town.

Emma _wanted_ Regina Mills like nothing in her life before that moment, and… fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.

It wasn't even just the dress, either – despite the role it played in the obvious destruction of Emma's few remaining brain cells.

It was just… Regina.

And it wasn't like this was new for Emma, either; this strange, possessive claim that she knew she had no right to hold over Regina.

It wasn't the dress, or her sensuality, or the lipstick, or even those goddamn Prada heels that Emma could practically _feel_ digging into the knots of her spine, so fierce and present were her fantasies.

It was just _Regina_.

It was the scar of Regina's upper lip and her endless devotion to Henry. It was the way she was able to slice through all that Emma was with a practiced smirk and a well (or ill) placed word that devastated each and every one of the defenses that Emma had spent her entire _life_ building, brick by heavy, painful brick. It was the way Regina argued with her, dipping in and out of Emma's personal space like she'd received a fucking invitation to be there; to breathe Emma's air, and to steal it straight from the pit of Emma's lungs.

But, mostly, it was that glint of… understanding? Sympathy? It didn't matter; it was a glint of _something_ in Regina's eye whenever something huge happened, and no one else noticed. Like when Emma returned from the Enchanted Forest, overwhelmed and desperate for solitude despite having been dropped into the arms of the family she'd always yearned for as a child. Or when in Neverland, and her parents gleefully whispered by the fire about the new baby they fully intended to begin working on the moment they returned to Storybrooke. Or when her parents decided that, actually, they quite liked the open floor arrangement of the loft, because it would be so wonderfully convenient to hear the baby cry out in the night, and to be able to keep an eye on him or her from the kitchen, so, actually, maybe _Emma_ should begin looking for a new place, instead.

Regina looked at her with that special glint, then, and – for once, like she just knew that Emma couldn't take it; not then – Regina didn't say a word, except to ask Henry if he'd like to stay with her for a day or two.

They never discussed it, and she certainly had no proof, but Emma had a feeling (because of the fucking glint, okay?) that it was… a _kindness_ from Regina; that Regina was offering to take Henry, not only to see him and spend some much-needed time rebuilding their relationship, but to spare Emma the hardship of masking her pain in their son's presence.

The damn dress didn't help a thing, but… it wasn't _just_ the dress, despite that Emma couldn't take her freaking eyes off the smooth, olive-toned expanse of Regina's calf, or the curve of her hip, or the way her breasts strained against the fabric with the tops of two glorious globes peeking from beneath the material in a way that could probably have earned her several awards if she ever became interested in the business of pornography.

"Miss Swan?" Regina questioned, her right arm draped casually over Henry's shoulders, for no other reason than that Henry had yet to pull away. She offered Emma two bemused blinks before catching Emma's line of sight and following it back to her dress, and then she twisted her mouth into a worried frown. "Do I- Is this not acceptable attire for a date?"

And, God, she looked so anxious about it that Emma's heart tripped in her eagerness to reassure.

"No," she insisted, shaking her head vigorously. "I mean, you- you look…" Emma swallowed and shook her head again (this one more for her own benefit than for Reginia's) as she forced herself to reply appropriately. "You look great, Regina. Really," she insisted. "I just, ah – " Emma hesitated, flailing through her rebooting mind for an adequate excuse; she'd spent a _really_ long time staring. "I've never seen that dress before. It's… You look really great," Emma repeated, feeling foolish and shifting her weight to shuffle against her feet.

"I _told you_," Henry huffed, aggravation coloring his words as he glared up at Regina, crossing his arms in a way that shook Emma through her toes, because, God, he was just _like her_, sometimes. "She's been like this for an hour," Henry told Emma with a pointed glance. "I don't even know why she's worried. She's a queen, and Robin Hood is _poor_."

"Henry!" They chided in unison, the admonishment falling sharply from the backs of each mother's throat.

Emma sighed, and motioned her hand for Regina to issue the suitable lecture, because, okay, she definitely didn't want her kid traipsing around and acting like a classist jerk (Emma's been on the poorer end of the social ladder for much of her life, thank you very much), but… she wasn't exactly feeling the warm and fuzzies for Robin of Loxley at that moment, and she didn't feel particularly open to the idea of defending him.

"You are a prince, from both sides of your family, Henry Mills; _royalty_ ought to respect _all_ of their constituents – not only the more fortunate ones. Do you understand?" Regina began sharply, but finished softly with two gentle fingers lifting Henry's chin.

"I didn't mean it like that," Henry mumbled, scuffing his shoe sheepishly against the floor. "I just meant that you don't need to be nervous. _He's_ the thief," Henry scowled with renewed vigor. "_He_ should be impressing _you_."

Emma was beginning to catch a tone in Henry's voice, and with that glower on his face, she was pretty sure that Henry was harboring some potentially ill feelings about Robin Hood, too.

She'd deliberately avoided speaking about the man with Henry, because with the fledgling relationship between he and Regina, Emma certainly wasn't about to be the one to fill Henry with her own brewing hatred for Robin. The pure _envy _she felt didn't help things, either. But those were her own demons to bear, and she wasn't going to load them onto her son and give him any ideas about what he should be feeling. That would make things even more difficult for Regina.

Regina, Emma was _positive_, had enough hang-ups about seeing the man with her own history haunting her; she didn't need the added pressure of forcing her… date? Boyfriend? Lover? Whatever. It didn't matter, Emma sighed to herself. The point was that Regina didn't need the pressure of forcing Robin and Henry into male-bonding so that the kid loosened up about him. Dating someone new after thirty-plus years of solitude (but for a zombie-esque, Irish accented sheriff, Emma supposed) was stressful enough.

Maybe she would have to talk to Henry, before he could ruin this for Regina.

God, she did _not_ look forward to that discussion.

"Perhaps he _should_ impress me," Regina smirked playfully. "But there's no harm in reminding him what he has to live up to, is there?" She raised a brow.

Henry grinned abruptly and shook his head. "Nice, Mom!" He congratulated, offering his hand for a high-five.

Despite her feelings about Robin, Henry's clear protectiveness over Regina made her feel proud to call him her son. And, damn it, Henry was right, and so was Regina; if Robin failed to see that he was practically courting a goddess tonight, and that he ought to be at the very best of his game, the man wasn't worth the trouble, anyway. He'd _better_ impress her, Emma thought with a scowl.

_She deserves it_, her brain offered feebly.

Regina somewhat awkwardly returned Henry's gesture with a slap of her own palm against his, and Emma barked out a laugh, unbidden, which she quickly covered with four fingers pressed against the lines of her mouth.

"Something you'd like to say, Miss Swan?" Regina arched her brow imperiously.

"Nope," Emma shook her head instantly.

No _way_ was she about to tell Regina how undignified and uncomfortable and utterly _adorable_ it was to watch her high-five their son in that dress and those heels with that proud-of-herself-for-earning-such-affection grin on her face.

"Really?" Regina scoffed teasingly, winking down at Henry. "Because it sounded as though you'd found something awfully amusing," she paused, before leaning inward, and practically, dangerously purring out, "_Emma_."

Emma struggled for a moment not to choke on her own breaths, but shook her head again, lightly shoving at Regina's shoulder (partly to get the former mayor the hell out of her space – because Emma _needed_ that, damn it – but mostly, and involuntarily, as a show of her own brand of affection). "I said _no_, woman, geez. Don't you have a date to get to?"

Emma almost cringed at bringing it back up, especially then, with their now lighthearted banter beginning to blossom up again, but she needed to remind herself that Regina was _not_ hers, and she couldn't keep the woman lingering on the porch steps of her new townhouse just to catch a few more moments with her.

It wasn't her place to do that, anymore, and honestly (probably) never had been. They'd built a routine this way, after Neverland; a custody arrangement with Henry, a détente between each of them, and – though it had certainly taken time and arguments and _a lot more time and arguments_ – they'd settled, somewhere, into… friends? Or something, Emma guessed. They teased and laughed and shared a glass of wine or two while Henry worked on a project at the mansion, or Emma invited Regina over for dinner.

And Emma (_stupidly_, she reminded herself fiercely) began to… _care_ about her. And _not_ just as an important maternal figure in Henry's life. Emma began to care about _Regina_. She cared about the way she took her coffee, and the crossword she insisted on completing every Sunday morning. She cared about the chicken salad sandwich she had every day for lunch, unless it was raining, in which case Emma cared enough to bring her the tomato soup she loved so much from Granny's when Regina got too held up at the office to concern herself with such a little thing like her _appetite_.

Emma just cared about her. And now, well. Now it was well and truly _fucking. her. over._ Because Regina was now someone else's to care about that way; someone (fucking _Robin Hood_, that damn thief) had stolen it from Emma before she'd really even gotten to _have it_, and Emma was bitter, and sad, and Regina probably needed to go see him before Emma forgot, again, that Regina wasn't hers to care about as anything more than _maybe_ a friend, if even that.

Regina's relaxed, easy expression tightened as her back straightened, and, for a moment, Emma thought she detected something like curiosity flaring to life beneath those molten chocolate orbs – but it was gone before Emma really had a chance to evaluate it, so she shook her head again and offered an encouraging smile.

"Of course," Regina nodded. "Yes, I should get going. Goodbye, Henry; I'll see you in the morning. Nine o'clock, alright? We'll have breakfast at Granny's, then head to the stables?"

Henry rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Yes, Mom. I know. Bye. Have fun, I guess," he offered, with a scrunched up nose and a small smile. "You really do look good," the boy added, before ducking under Emma's arm, still stretched open and propped against the door, scampering up the small flight of steps to dump his backpack in his room.

It wasn't 'I love you,' which Emma supposed Regina no longer expected, and there was no hug, either, but there was clear affection in Henry's farewell to his mother, and even reassurance for a date that Henry clearly wasn't thrilled about. It was definitely progress from his bratty, defiant ways of saying 'I hate you' while avoiding the words to therefore avoid punishment from Emma.

Emma had cracked down on him over that pretty hard after Neverland, and Henry had been furious for weeks about the somewhat-civil accord that she and Regina had reached about sharing equal time with him, but things had definitely improved. It had taken many family board games (often ending in upturned boards and either a pouting Henry, or a pouting Emma, after a reflexive harsh snap or two from Regina's end), and it had also taken dinners, and Emma slyly pretending not to notice the small bribes like ice cream and comic books and video games that Regina used to bargain for Henry's affection.

Perhaps it wasn't the _healthiest_ way of rising from the ashes, but Henry was just a kid – and a good one at that – and Regina paid enough attention to know that those were Henry's favorite things, and Emma was pretty sure _that_ was what had won Henry over more than Regina actually buying those things for him, so she said nothing and allowed it to continue.

"Alright," Regina took a deep breath, as though preparing herself for something, then nodded. "Henry still has a math worksheet left to finish. He'll probably tell you that he has all weekend to complete it, but the condition for our trip to the stables was that he have it finished beforehand, so be sure that – "

"We'll get it done, Regina," Emma tendered a small smile. "Don't worry about us. We're gonna have mac and cheese for dinner, and I already have the alarm set for eight to make sure he's up and ready for you tomorrow morning."

"Thank you," Regina puffed out, relieved. "And… thank you for taking him tonight, Miss– Emma," she amended, with a small upturn at the corner of her mouth. "I know it's not your week with him, and I really appreciate this, particularly at the last minute. I didn't have much time to prepare, and – "

"It's fine," Emma insisted. "Kid can come over whenever you want. Like I said, don't worry about us. Just…" Emma sighed softly. "Just have a good time, and we'll see you in the morning, I guess."

"Emma," Regina began, but ducked her eyes to the floor for a moment, and seemed to struggle with whatever else she'd planned to say, before settling with a slight stammer, "are you- alright?"

"What?" Emma blinked rapidly, before carefully rearranging her face with a pretty convincing smile, and nodding. "Yeah, of course. Go, Regina. Me and Henry will be fine."

"Henry and _I_," Regina corrected habitually.

"Whatever," Emma snorted. "We're good, Regina. Seriously."

Regina nodded, sweeping her eyes intently across Emma's face, and Emma called upon every damn muscle in her body with a plea not to fidget beneath the brunette's curious evaluation.

"Alright. I'll see you both in the morning," Regina concluded, lifting her palm from where it had folded across the small, black clutch at her tummy for a tiny wave before she turned to unlock the Benz.

"Bye," Emma whispered, leaning her temple against the frame of the wooden door and helplessly watching the woman she was damn near (if not already) in love with peel out of her driveway for a date that was decidedly _not_ with her.

Fuck, fuck, fucking _fuck_.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ This is my first OUAT fic, so if you have any comments, I'd be thrilled to know what you think! Criticism (if it's constructive) is welcome, too! I'll take what I can get. :P


	2. The Woods

_Author's Note: _My deepest apologies, guys. Apparently I posted chapter one twice. Here's the second chapter!

_Addendum:_ I didn't post chapter one twice. I accidentally replaced chapter one with chapter two. Sorry to the newcomers who didn't notice; definitely my mistake, and I'm more than a little embarrassed. If you've read this chapter already, I suggest dipping back to read chapter one. Really sorry, guys. Please forgive me!

* * *

Regina daintily folded her legs beneath her, awkwardly shuffling her knees and shins against the scratchy woolen blanket in an attempt to make herself a bit more comfortable.

She tried very hard not to wrinkle her nose at the cheap wine housed in the plastic cup held in her palm, but – after thirty years in Storybrooke and the strange world that the town lived in – her wine preferences had developed to a rather impressive state. As much as the gesture was appreciated, Robin's palate was decidedly less refined than Regina's, and she found herself forcing the first several sips through her lips before subtly setting the beverage aside.

Casting a quick glance around the small clearing, Regina released an inaudible sigh.

"Ah, it seems I've left the cutlery in the truck," Robin chuckled shamelessly, fingers hovering within the picnic basket as his eyes scoured fruitlessly for cutlery that was, apparently, absent.

Regina's lip instinctively curled upward, before she nodded and persuaded the slight sneer to become a tight-lipped smile, instead. "I suppose you ought to retrieve it, then, should you not?" She inquired sweetly.

She might be able to tolerate the more unpleasant side of nature for an evening, but Regina was a lady – and had the proper manners of one, too; she would not be licking dirt and grime from her fingers in an attempt to make do without silverware.

Robin boomed a loud laugh, and Regina raised her brow. Though she supposed that she was pleased to elicit laughter from present company, the actual sound of the calloused noise abraded unpleasantly against her ears.

"I suppose a queen would expect no less," the thief teased.

With a narrowing of her eyes that was a bit less playful than Robin Hood perhaps expected, Regina almost scathingly replied, "Indeed, she would not."

Another laugh followed – though this one decidedly less carefree and a bit tenser around the edges than the last – and then Robin stood, offering a small, half-hearted bow before replying, "Then a request for cutlery is one that I shall abide, Your Majesty."

Regina watched him smirk before obligingly promising to remain where she sat (like she'd truly have anywhere else to wander off to in these godforsaken woods, Regina scoffed internally), and the man took off through the small path that lead back to the main road without any further coercion.

It really should not have come as so much of a shock to her that Robin's idea of a date on Friday night meant a picnic in the woods. And, really, if Regina thought about it in the abstract sense, it was a decently- _cute _concept.

The reality, however, was decidedly _not_ cute. Small mosquitos feasted on the exposed flesh of her legs and shoulders, her heels had definitely not been fashioned for the hike up to the clearing, the air was muggy – the humidity certainly not working any favors for her thick hair, and with the setting of the sun half an hour previous, Regina could hardly see past the small ring of light that the lantern set between them had provided.

Regina worked very hard not to think on it, but she was fairly miserable, and more than a little disappointed. She'd wanted perfection – or as close to it as could be achieved in Storybrooke – and this picnic in the woods was… _not that_.

For example, Robin simply sported his regular trousers and loose blouse, seemingly having put little effort into his appearance for the evening.

Regina, on the other hand, had agonized for hours that afternoon fretting over what to wear, and, when she'd finally arrived to drop Henry off at Emma's for the evening, Regina had worried that she'd made the wrong choice.

The intensity of the look that Emma had bestowed upon the slip of black fabric had Regina's insecurities rising once more and demanding to be sated, so Regina had anxiously stammered through a question, seeking Emma's approval.

It had been granted.

Emma had been quick to promise that she looked 'great,' and Regina had felt inexplicably relieved by the sentiment, but several things about their interaction that evening had struck Regina as strange. More than once, there had been a look on Emma's face, and it was a look that Regina had seen before.

It was a quick flash of emotion – something too quick to be named (a fact which infuriated Regina), but that made Regina's heart rapidly constrict and then release with a hard thud in her chest – and then… nothing.

Regina was familiar with the mask of neutrality that had abruptly descended across Emma's features, as it was a mask that she often found need to coax onto her own. It was self-preservation in its rawest form, and Regina could recognize Emma's need for it.

Still, Regina was discomfited by how concerned she felt as she watched the steady, jarringly vacant blink of Emma's eyes as soon as her expression had been mastered. Though Regina understood the need for self-preservation, she was earnestly baffled about _why_ Emma had felt she'd needed it, in that moment.

It wasn't the first time she'd seen Emma wear it, and the fury that had clouded her veins when Snow White and her beloved Prince Charming neglected to identify it had the former queen clenching her teeth against a hot, pointed remark toward their obliviousness. It had startled Regina for quite some time to realize that she actually _cared_ that Emma was so clearly pained by their eagerness to replace her (as had been discussed by the campfires in Neverland), or by the utter thoughtlessness shown when they had – very publically – asked Emma to move out.

But the fact of the matter was that Regina _did_ care, and, after many months of fighting it, Regina was able to accept and respect the notion that Emma Swan had, indeed, given her every _reason_ to care.

Their history was a complicated one (and that was putting it rather simply, Regina mentally sniffed), but it had always been peppered by… _moments_, Regina supposed.

Moments when Emma saved her life – quite literally; moments when Emma had tried to understand Regina, and had pleaded for something – _anything_ – to prove that Regina wasn't the heartless wretch that she so often had the tendency to make herself out as; moments where Regina had refused to allow the irritating woman even a hint of gratitude or recognition, even when admittedly well-deserved; moments when Emma had selflessly sacrificed relationships solely to defend Regina. Really, the list went on, but it all circled back to some entrenched connection that Regina had initially loathed with every fiber of her being.

Neverland had certainly changed things, and all the work put into building some sort of relationship afterward had furthered their begrudged bond into something that, perhaps, was not always _treasured_, but certainly always valued by Regina.

She'd even dare to call them friends, by this point, though Regina felt herself very uncomfortable with the term. She wasn't well versed in the behaviors of 'friendship,' so to say that it surprised her when Emma stopped by the office to bring her lunch or called to invite her for dinner would be an understatement.

Still, Regina felt that they _were_ friends, if not something a bit more closely linked (something that she hesitated to call 'intimate' simply for its connotations, despite that 'intimate' seemed oddly accurate); Emma often released belts of laughter that urged gentle, indulgent smiles from Regina – previously only gifted to dear Henry – so the mayor felt unsettled by Emma's abrupt need to protect herself around Regina.

It had been quite some time since that mask of neutrality from Emma had been directed at _her_, and Regina found that she was not at all fond of it.

Asking if Emma was alright had been- _weird_, as Henry would have announced. Though the two often understood each other far better than either of them would be willing to confess, their empathy for the detected emotions often went unspoken.

But Regina hadn't _liked_ that Emma had withdrawn, and – if she was honest – it upset her. She had only been mildly reassured by Emma's response, and might have pressed further on the line of conversation, had the blonde not been correct; Regina was late for her date, and punctuality was something she did not often sacrifice.

Though, Regina thought as she derisively spared an evaluation to her surroundings, perhaps if she had been late, she only would have spared herself.

Sighing softly as she detected the telltale noise of moving brush and snapping twigs, Regina shoved away her ill thoughts about this date and tried to focus on the fact that Robin Hood was told to be her True Love. Even if Regina hesitated to put much stock in that particular notion, it was still a rather freeing concept that someone (_anyone_, at this point) would willingly request her company.

Regina was lonely, particularly with half of Henry's time now being spent with Emma, and companionship had _always_ been deeply desired by Regina. Even if Robin _wasn't_ perfect – or even perfect for _her_, Regina thought with mild bitterness – she could overcome a lot of things for the sake of camaraderie that she wasn't quite sure she deserved.

Resolved to at the very least _pretend_ to enjoy the evening, Regina allowed a genuine smile when the returned thief grinned proudly and thrust a plastic fork into Regina's face with yet another bow.

"Her Majesty's cutlery," Robin winked.

Regina chuckled, gently grasping both the fork and the fingers that presented it, before placing a soft kiss to the man's knuckles. "A gracious favor to the crown which shall not be forgotten," she played along, determined to make the best of the rather unfortunate situation.

When Robin's cheeks flushed a little pink, and he stumbled over his feet, Regina couldn't help but feel the strike of a small flicker of dissatisfaction. Emma – the only _true_ friend that Regina had ever claimed – would have rolled her eyes and outright _mocked_ the notion of pleasing 'the crown.'

Should a potential lover honestly be so enamored with the notion of pleasing a royal stature that Regina felt she was no longer even in possession of?

* * *

Regina drew long, improper gulps of her coffee out of a travel mug, unceremoniously halted in her Mercedes outside the lone traffic light boasted by Storybrooke's streets. No matter how many technicians she had ordered out to see to the matter, the damn light never failed to take seven _long_ minutes to change.

She'd wondered, before the curse broke, if it had been a side effect – much like the broken clock tower. If Regina had suffered any grander disappointment than the actual crumbling of her curse-ridden town beneath True Love's kiss, it had been that this light had not been repaired with it.

The brunette idly tapped her fingers along the steering wheel, and, when the light finally flashed to green, she eagerly stepped on the gas.

The night before had been long, and – though it had ended on a relatively pleasant note, with a glass of her own cider in the study and a chaste kiss to Robin Hood's cheek in the foyer afterward – Regina wasn't exactly suffering through giddiness and butterflies.

At least, not regarding Robin of Loxley.

Regina did, however, find herself uncomfortably anxious about facing Emma Swan.

Despite the light, Regina would be early arriving on the blonde's doorstep. She'd spent nearly an hour lying in bed before sleep came to her, only with the internal promise to at least attempt to discuss Emma's uncharacteristic (at least in Regina's presence) behavior of the night before.

Now, though, Regina wasn't even sure how to approach it – _particularly_ if Emma had wrangled whatever emotions had surfaced within her the night before into submission. Though Regina supposed it wouldn't be strictly necessary to discuss said behavior if Emma had worked through it on her own, she had realized after long moments of contemplation that she felt curiously _wounded_ by Emma's determination not to reveal her feelings.

It wasn't precisely fair, Regina knew, as she would be less than willing to expose herself to the blonde's scrutiny, but Emma had always been the metaphorically bigger person out of the two.

Additionally, Regina could confess within the walls of her own mind, it would be- _pleasing_, to say the least, if Emma felt that she could confide in her.

Nodding to herself, Regina pulled up beside the yellow Bug that she had (begrudgingly) learned to think fondly of, and strode with faux-confidence to the door. Jamming her finger once against the doorbell before tucking her hands into the pockets of her riding jacket, Regina waited impatiently for the sheriff to answer.

She only hovered fourteen seconds before the sleepy blonde opened the door, rubbing tired, sore-looking eyes.

"You're early," Emma deadpanned, playfully narrowing her eyes.

Regina chuckled, smirked, and replied, "I hardly suspect you'd have been able to improve much upon your appearance within the next twenty minutes, dear."

Regina tightened her fingers into a small fist, consciously forcing her breath not to catch as Emma's eyes briefly glanced down before bright green brightened with insecure vulnerability. The mayor felt momentarily – guilty? Was this what guilt felt like? – for her comment, but a blink of brown eyes later, and the blonde's expression was merely sheepish, accented by a casual shrug.

"Well, it's not like _I'm_ going anywhere today," Emma smiled crookedly.

"Oh?" Regina lifted a brow.

She'd never thought much on what Emma did during Regina's time with Henry, really; she supposed the sheriff went to work, and perhaps watched films and relaxed in the evenings with a healthy tumbler of Jack to keep her company. Weekends, though? Regina wasn't sure why it had never occurred to her, but – recalling her own lonely weekends without Henry, puttering about the mansion and accidentally cooking more than one serving of food – she abruptly sympathized with Emma.

Sure, the blonde had her parents – and Regina used the term loosely – but they were nauseating to be around, and (from what Emma had shared) constantly working toward that extra member of the family. With Charming still standing as deputy, and Snow forging new lesson plans to incorporate the history of the Enchanted Forest into the curriculum for her students at the school, as well, she supposed the two more than likely valued their shared time together on the weekends.

So what _did_ Emma do, when Henry was with Regina?

With a sharp pang of kinship, Regina realized that Emma, more likely than not, spent her weekends without Henry the same way that Regina did: _sulking_, for lack of a better term.

"Nah," Emma shrugged. "Didn't you wonder why it was no trouble to take Henry for the night with less than an hour's warning?" She smirked playfully.

"I suppose I'd assumed you'd treasure _any_ extra time I was willing to allow you with our son," Regina returned with false-haughtiness.

The _false_ part struck her as especially startling, in that moment; not so long ago, it would have been 'my son' and well-believed entitlement. Now? Now she was standing on Emma Swan's front porch, almost- _joking_ about the matter.

Neverland had, indeed, changed things.

Emma rolled her eyes, and huffed, "Yeah, well, that… and I didn't have plans."

"Is Henry…?" Regina began, flitting her eyes briefly toward the stairs as an indication to the rest of her question.

"He's in the shower," Emma sighed heavily. "Kid takes longer in there than I do, these days. You wanna come in?"

Regina offered an appreciative smile and nodded, stepping easily past the threshold as Emma held it open for her, and moving toward the living room couch they so often made conversation on.

"Coffee?" Emma asked, turning her head over her shoulder as she stopped near the kitchen.

Regina shook her head. "I had some on the way over. I got stuck at the light," she scowled, remembering.

"_Ugh_," Emma emphatically groaned. "You're the freaking mayor. Can't you do something about that freaking light?"

"I assure you, Miss Swan, that I have certainly tried," Regina lamented loudly, as Emma disappeared from the doorway to retrieve her own (apparently much-needed) mug of caffeine.

Evaluating the blonde's disheveled appearance with eyes more pointed than Regina would have liked to admit, she frowned and asked carefully, "Did Henry get to bed on time?"

"What?" Emma blinked into her mug of coffee, then seemed to register the question and nodded fervently. "Oh, yeah. Kid was out like a light by nine-thirty," she grinned. "He complained the entire time we worked on his math, but he was exhausted by the time we finished. I think it hurts his tiny brain."

"Are you calling our son stupid, Emma?" She raised an imperious brow and managed to keep her face neutral for a solid ten seconds – right up until Emma's face flushed a deep, flattering pink, anyway – and then promptly released a belt of amused laughter.

Regina knew a lot of things about Emma, at this point in their friendship, but she'd known (since the moment that Emma had shown up on her doorstep preaching about a single, self-purchased cupcake and a wish, and the little boy that had shown up on her doorstep to grant said wish of not spending the day alone) that Emma Swan thought the boy as perfect as Regina knew him to be. Emma would _never_ imply that Henry was stupid.

"You're a real bitch sometimes, you know," Emma laughed breathily, the color in her cheeks slowly receding as she identified Regina's comment as a jest.

"I did well _earn_ my 'evil' title, dear," Regina finished on the ends of her chuckle.

"Please," Emma scoffed, sounding – if Regina had to guess – almost… _offended_. "You have some seriously dark tendencies, Regina, but I think being _evil_ means that you want people to suffer for no reason. Revenge for something done _to_ you doesn't exactly qualify."

Regina blinked, and felt remarkably foolish for how quickly her airways tightened. Emma's words were just that; _words._ But no matter how many times this conversation had arisen, in one form or another (with, generally, either shouting or soft platitudes as Emma either refused to believe the evidence of Regina's past to be indicative of Regina's _nature_, or the blonde comforted Regina despite either her past _or _her nature), it still jarred Regina to see the sincerity reflected in Emma's pools of honest green.

"I suppose," Regina hedged.

She could hear Henry pattering out of the shower upstairs, and was uncomfortably aware that now was not the time for in-depth emotional discussions. Though she'd intended to speak with Emma about her reactions the evening prior, the sheriff's appearance suggested that, even if they had the _time_, Emma might not be prepared to handle the type of conversation that Regina yearned to have.

Emma wore a soft-looking pair of flannel pajama pants and her signature tank top, but her hair was tangled in knots, the vessels in her eyes were straining for rest, and the dark circles beneath the familiarly shimmering green spoke of lost sleep. Regina had wondered if Emma and Henry had rebelliously defied their respective bedtimes the night before, but she had been reassured that Henry was quite well rested.

His blonde mother, however, was clearly _not_.

Regina, though guilty of more than several ill-conceived decisions in her lifetime, was aware enough of how Emma functioned to realize that, despite her desire to talk about Emma's withdrawal the night before, something was clearly bothering the blonde, and she would be getting no answers to her questions today.

Emma didn't respond very well to _anything_ when sleep-deprived, and if Regina was brave enough to dare pushing the blonde about her emotional state, she'd certainly elect to be smart about it, at least. And it was clear to Regina that now was not the time.

"So," Emma began softly, blowing lightly over the lip of her coffee mug and eyeing it studiously, as though daring the beverage to scald her tongue, "how was it?"

"I'm afraid you may need to be a bit more specific, dear," Regina clucked chidingly.

"Seriously?" Emma snorted. "Your _date_, Regina," she elaborated briefly. "Did you have a good time?"

Regina would swear that her tone breathed bitterness, but when Regina looked at her to search for it in Emma's face, she found only curiosity and some odd form of hope in the sheriff's eyes.

"It was…" Regina hesitated. It was awful, really, but after the debacle of missing cutlery, Regina had forced herself to enjoy the conversation, if nothing else. She didn't have a decent handle on how dates were meant to go, really – especially not in this world – but she was pretty sure that it would have ranked _decent_, at least, if not particularly _wonderful_. So, "Fine," Regina finished resolutely.

Emma smiled – thin and unsure – before she nodded, and said softly, "I'm glad."

There.

There was that look again, though Regina couldn't for the life of her figure out where it had spawned from. She wanted to ask, and her lips parted to voice the inquiry that she had already decided against asking this morning, but she was interrupted.

"Emma, I'm hungry! Can't I have a snack?" Henry whined from the top of the stairs.

"_God_," Emma sighed fondly. She then loudly called back, "Your mom's here. You wanna tell her about how you're trying to ruin your appetite when you know she's taking you to breakfast?"

Henry thundered down the stairs abruptly, looking – to Regina's eyes – so handsomely dapper in his formal riding clothes. She nearly cried, remembering that not so long ago, she had been sure that she'd never be allowed the chance to share her love of the stables with her son, for he couldn't stand to be in her presence long enough to _want_ that.

So much had changed, and Regina admitted that she had Emma Swan to thank for most, if not all, of that change.

Clearing her throat against the unexpected burst of emotion, Regina lightly announced, "Come, Henry. Growing boys need their sustenance."

"_Yeah_, we do," Henry grinned smugly, rushing to wrap his arms around Emma's waist for a brief hug. "Bye, Ma," he murmured earnestly. "Don't forget you promised me a movie when I get back on Sunday."

"I won't forget, kid," Emma swore with a chuckle. "Have fun."

Henry then spun on his heel to latch onto Regina's side, hugging her elbow between excitable fingers, and beamed, "Breakfast?"

"Yes, Henry," Regina smiled indulgently. "Let's go."

She turned to Emma, gratitude for this moment bursting from her heart and thrumming through her limbs, so she sincerely mouthed, "Thank you," to express her true appreciation.

Regina didn't ponder if Emma understood just _what_ she was appreciating, and she needn't have, for Emma smiled softly and nodded, sheepishly brushing her fingers through her hair with a gentle sort of compassion in her eyes that unfailingly proved to Regina that the blonde _did, _indeed, understand what this meant to her.

Nodding her farewell in return, Regina clasped Henry's shoulder in her hand and dug for her keys in her pocket, happy to spend the day with her son.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ So, I realized in retrospect that beginning a story the week before vacation was probably a bad idea. Sorry about that. But I tried to give you a lengthy chapter, so there's that... I know that there wasn't much dialogue in this chapter until the end, but Regina's headspace gets complicated, to say the least, and I needed to get a feel for it. Let me know how I did, please! Hope you enjoyed it!


	3. The Visitation

"Emma!" Ruby beamed brightly as the sheriff entered the diner. "How are you?"

Sighing subtly, Emma peeled the fabric of red leather from her shoulders, laying it with care across the booth before she sidled in to settle herself beside it.

"I'm good, Rubes," Emma smiled through the lie.

She guessed she was, technically; she just didn't quite _feel_ like it. Emma was tired, and more than a little humiliated by the fact that she'd kept herself awake the last several nights agonizing over imagined images of Regina's relationship with Robin.

It wasn't fair of Emma to do, but she just couldn't help it.

She wanted to be happy for Regina, but it wasn't really like that was a light switch that she could flip on and off at will. Savior or not, Emma was no _saint_; it wasn't in her nature to feel happy for another's happiness when it only came at the expense of her own. She simply was not that selfless.

Emma did her best, but she wasn't sure how successful she could call herself. Half the time, Emma forced herself to smile and ask the right questions and affix the appropriate amount of emotion into her expressions – but that act fell away almost the moment she was isolated from human company. And the other half of the time? Most of _that_ half was spent with the eerily familiar, uncomfortable sensation of, once again, staring through the window at all the things that Emma could never afford in life, or would never be afforded.

It was a punch in the gut. Emma had worked hard to never feel that way again, but, damn it, it was hard to keep it under control once the feeling sprung up again.

All her life, Emma had yearned for things she couldn't have; the luxury of knowing that dinner would be available to her every night, the comfort of knowing that she had a bed to sleep in and shelter to keep her warm, the security of knowing where _home_ was, and knowing that she wouldn't be exiled from it the _moment_ she allowed herself to feel hopeful about maybe, for once, being _accepted_ there. And, _all her life,_ the thing that Emma had yearned for most was someone to love, and who loved Emma in return.

Most of those things, Emma had provided for herself the moment that she was able.

The Bug wasn't much, but it was the first place that she had called _home_, with Neal – who Emma thought could bring her happiness, before his massive betrayal. After that, she'd kept the car and hadn't been able to give it up; she'd lived in it for a while longer after prison out of necessity, before she found a job bartending in Memphis, and when she'd had the money for an apartment, she'd still needed transportation, anyway. By the time she could afford another car, though, she'd come to view the Beetle as a symbol of how far she'd come, _alone_, and it was a mark of pride for Emma.

She'd done what she'd needed to do in order to provide herself with what she needed. Emma didn't _need_ anyone else; she could be self-sufficient, once more, she remembered thinking. Whatever she and Neal had done together, Emma didn't need him. She could survive on her own.

Emma had provided her _own_ food, her _own_ shelter, her _own _home – and she hadn't stolen from anyone to do it.

If it didn't _quite_ feel like the home Emma had always imagined, that wasn't her fault. People had proven to reject and abandon Emma at every given opportunity, so it wasn't her fault if she didn't trust them, and it wasn't her fault that the last thing she'd wanted – someone to care for, who felt the same about Emma as she did for them – was something that simply remained out of her hands.

She'd done what she could, and she'd made her life suitable enough.

Emma had stopped hoping for much else. Until Storybrooke, anyway. And, now, remembering how much it hurt to feel abandoned and lonely and wishful, Emma could practically feel the ache in her chest expanding; her stomach roiled, and, in addition to feeling exhausted, Emma felt _sick_ with herself.

"Wanna try that again?" Ruby asked, lifting a skeptical brow as her wide, curious eyes devoured the lines of Emma's face with concern. "Jesus, you look like crap, Ems. What's up?" She asked, shifting her weight until her left hip absently canted upward.

Emma shook herself into the conversation, forcing her features to even out. She'd blanked out for a couple minutes, lost in her head – again – and she tried to recall what she'd even been talking to Ruby about.

"_I'm good,"_ Emma had said.

_Yeah, right,_ Emma snorted internally.

"Just tired," she eventually dismissed Ruby's concern with a small, appreciative smile, flapping a negligent palm outward to shelve the wolf's worry. "I'm behind on paperwork," she chuckled.

That wasn't strictly true. In fact, Emma had been surprised to realize that morning that she was actually _ahead_ on paperwork, and she was trudging through documents that weren't due in Regina's office for another few weeks. But the days had been slow, and Emma's mind had been racing, and Henry had school during the day, so Emma had used the work to distract herself.

It wasn't working quite as well as she'd hoped.

Still, Emma had things to busy herself with, which was infinitely better than just sitting around with idle hands and churning thoughts.

Ruby nodded sympathetically and offered a tiny pat to Emma's shoulder. "I'll get you some cocoa," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Thanks, Ruby," Emma chuckled. "That sounds great, actually. Make it two. And a couple of burgers, please. I'm meeting Henry after school."

"You got it. I'll be back in a few," Ruby winked.

Unfortunately, Ruby wasn't back in _time_.

Emma's face lit with a smile the moment she saw Henry; it was Wednesday, and Regina's week with him, but sometimes Emma got to hang out with him during lulls at the station after classes let out, between the times when Henry was released from the torture of education and when Regina managed to escape from Town Hall around seven.

It was normal for her to know that, Emma justified, because it gave her time with Henry.

… Not at all because she was practically in love with the mayor and, for the most part, had her schedule memorized just so that she could have something to talk to Regina about on days filled with exhausting city council meetings.

The smile that she was helpless against in Henry's presence faded with relative quickness, though, with the man behind him.

_Neal_, Emma thought with a tired sigh.

"Emma!" Henry grinned, jogging up to the sheriff's table.

"Hey, kid," Emma ruffled his hair, ignoring his playful scowl as he brushed it back into place a moment later.

"Dad wants to eat with us. Is it okay?" Henry asked.

If the beam on his face flashed any brighter, Emma might have gone blind. Maybe she could talk with Henry about sharing time with Neal later – _not_ in Emma's presence – but without explaining it to him first, Emma was sure that the only reaction she'd receive from her son would be one borne of confusion, disappointment, and anger.

Unfortunately, that meant that she had to agree.

"Sure," she shrugged, eyeing Neal with sharp eyes. "I just ordered you a burger. Give it a minute," Emma added, watching as Henry threw his backpack into the booth before sliding in after it, bouncing in his seat with eagerness.

"You sure it's okay?" Neal asked, grinning dopily and scratching at the scruff of his beard.

_Like you're giving me a choice?_ Emma scoffed.

Encouraging civility for Henry's sake, Emma shrugged again and nodded. "Sit down," she instructed.

"Emma, Dad was telling me about Tallahassee," Henry attentively shifted forward, leaning his elbows on the table.

Civility then seemed a stretch, but – despite the hot fury that burned in her veins – Emma did her best not to glare at Neal.

"That was a long time ago, Henry," Emma sighed softly.

Destroying Henry's view of his father wasn't something that Emma wanted, but she sure as fuck wasn't going to entertain notions that there was any _shred_ of romanticism left in her relationship with Neal. She wasn't going to wistfully pine for a future that was no longer there, and she wasn't going to reminisce on the good old days with the ex-boyfriend who had sent her to _jail_. As far as Emma was concerned, the whole thing had been a trap – by Neal's design or not – and whatever fondness she'd once felt was long gone.

Emma had believed – _truly_ believed – in Neverland that she would always love him, particularly after she had thought him dead and felt miserable over it, but that wasn't true. It had taken some time to realize it, but it simply wasn't true. Emma had believed it then, though, so it had been her secret to share.

But the fact of the matter was that she'd only believed that because it still hurt to look at him; it still had hurt to see him plan for his future with Tamara when it could have been with her if he'd just had _faith_ in them. Emma had only believed that she still loved him because she still resented him, and people who were over their histories and over their feelings– they didn't still hold grudges, did they? No.

Except that they _did._

_Emma_ did.

She held resentments and ill feelings toward Neal, not because she wasn't over _him_, but because she wasn't over what he'd _done_. It wasn't the same, Emma reminded herself. It wasn't the same at all, because Neal was only one man in a long line of people who had thrown Emma away like the garbage every Tuesday, and Emma _couldn't_ get over that.

"I know, but it still sounds nice," Henry shrugged his small shoulders.

"It was nice," Neal nodded, a secret smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. "Don't you think, Em?"

Emma hardened her face and watched Neal with steel in her eyes and lining the set of her jaw. "Maybe. _A long time ago_," she emphasized.

Neal shrugged, undeterred. "It could be again, you know," he muttered softly.

Jesus, he was really going to do this now? _Here?_ With the kid in the same booth, and nosy, gossiping townspeople all over the diner? Fuck _that_.

"I like it here just fine," Emma told him pointedly.

"But – "

"I've got your burgers. Oh," Ruby said, expertly sliding two plates in front of Emma and Henry before freeing the tray of their hot chocolates, too. "Hey, Neal. What can I get you?"

Thank God for Ruby, Emma thought gratefully.

She carefully steered the rest of the conversation toward Henry and his schooling and his newest video games, and scowled at Neal when he rested an open palm halfway across the table as though expecting Emma's own to meet it.

When she wasn't actively partaking in her meal, Emma consciously folded her hands together over her lap beneath the table.

* * *

"You look wiped," Emma frowned as Henry rushed up the mansion stairs to start on his homework.

"Yes, well," Regina cleared her throat, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, "it's been a long day. Would you like a drink?"

Emma emphatically groaned her consent, visibly ignoring Regina's ensuing snort, but internally reveling in the ungraceful sound and mentally cheering at the notion that Regina didn't feel the need to apologize to Emma for it immediately afterward. The sheriff followed the brunette into the study, plopping into her corner of the sofa as Regina prepared the beverages.

"What happened?" Emma asked, head tilted back against the plush cushions and eyes half-shut against exhaustion.

It was odd, but after several weeks of sporadic, ever-evasive sleep, Emma felt like she could crash on this couch for days and not even stir for the apocalypse.

"Hm?" Regina hummed in question, focused on stirring Emma's Jack and coke with tiny clanks of the stirrer against the glass.

"You said it was a long day," Emma prompted with a chuckle. "So what happened?"

"The people of this town truly are imbeciles," Regina huffed, turning with drinks in hand and offering one to Emma.

Emma accepted, wrapping her fingers around the tumbler carefully so as not to touch Regina's. Touching Regina (even in the most innocent ways) was hard for Emma, because – while largely untrained – the Savior could now recognize the feel of magic pulsing through her veins, and it was at its strongest when in contact with Regina Mills.

She tried not to obsess over it too much, but it was difficult not to wonder why_,_ _exactly_, that would happen. Or even how.

The sheriff wasn't sure how she knew it, but she inherently felt that those were questions she should venture away from – at least for the time being.

"Regina," Emma laughed, "what _happened_?" She repeated.

"Nothing!" Regina snarled. "Absolutely _nothing_ happened. All day long, all I heard about was how to deal with Mrs. Gregory's neighbor's yappy dog, and the nuns _demanding_ that we keep the Miner's Day festival to inspire _morale_, and Doc complaining to me about how I'd failed to carry over the enchanted valerian roots from the Forest – _not_, may I point out, that he actually _requires_ it, with all the pharmacological advances of this realm," Regina sniffed derisively.

"Wow," Emma shook her head. "Your day almost sounds worse than mine."

"Almost, dear?" Regina chuckled and lifted her right brow.

"Well," Emma hesitated, shifting uncomfortably, "I got to have dinner with Neal, so… there's that," she began dryly.

Regina's lip curled upward in distaste. "Just _what_ you ever saw in that man is far beyond me, Miss Swan."

"Yeah, well…" Emma shrugged. "I honestly couldn't tell you, anymore," she sighed, swallowing a healthy swig of her drink and hunching her shoulders forward, defeated, to rest her elbows atop her knees. "Here's the thing… Henry invited him to eat with us. And, while I know you're going to hate it – hell, _I_ hate it – I think Henry might want to spend some more time with him."

"I do not want that unrefined, immature _boy_ spending time with our son," Regina rejected swiftly, crossing one knee overtop the other.

She looked regal, Emma thought. There were certain times when Regina made demands with this particular air of power shrouding her that Emma could _see_ the dark woman perched atop a throne and making demands of the royal court.

It was almost gratifying.

As was true of most people in the town, Regina had two separate lives – but Regina was the only one that Emma felt she _knew_. Regina was the same as she had been before the curse broke, and, although that had happened some time ago, now, Emma had never truly gotten to know the fairytale personas as well as she'd known the personas of the regular Storybrooke townspeople.

It was frustrating. These people claimed to _know_ her – to know _Emma_ – when they only knew pieces of the whole, but, even still, Emma hardly knew _them_.

Mary Margaret, for example, had been meek and sweet and indulgent, and Emma had loved her; Emma had loved Mary Margaret as her friend, her roommate, and – with time – as a sister.

But Snow? Snow was fierce and mischievous and always recklessly walking into danger like she owned it and could simply _order it_ not to harm her. Emma didn't even _know_ that woman, and she certainly wasn't about to call her _'Mom.'_

Regina, though… Emma knew Regina. Regina hadn't changed; she was still the woman who burned fury in Emma's heart like no other in the world was capable of, and she was still the adoptive mother of their son. Emma _understood_ Regina, and felt the same connection to her that she always had.

"I can't really say that I love the idea either," Emma confessed. "Mostly, I can't trust Neal Cassidy any further than I can throw him, but Henry- he knows who Neal is, now. And now that you and me are in a good place – "

"You and _I_, Miss Swan," Regina corrected, massaging two, slender fingers against her temple with irritation.

"Oh, what_ever_, Regina," Emma rolled her eyes, allowing herself another gulp of pleasantly burning whiskey and fizzling coke. "The point was that now that we're in a good place together, and with Henry, I think it would be a mistake for us to keep him from spending time with Neal. I don't want us to be on one side of the fence and Neal on the other, because then it'll be just like when I came to town, only Henry will resent_ both of us_ for keeping Neal away from him. And, because he's genetically half of _me_, he'll find a way to see Neal, anyway. You know he will, Regina," Emma said softly. "He did with me," she added slowly.

Regina clenched her jaw and stared Emma down, but Emma was pretty damn sure that she was right about this, so she held her ground.

Eventually, Regina released a pained, drawn-out sigh and nodded. "I'll have conditions."

"I sort of expected that," Emma groaned, dropping her back against the cushions once more. "Hit me with 'em, Madame Mayor."

* * *

_Author's Note:_ Let me know what you think. I know he wasn't included much in this chapter, but if you have any tips about how to improve upon Neal's character, let me know. He's a bit difficult for me to write, because I don't understand his decisions very well, but I want to do him justice, along with everyone else. Let me know what you enjoyed and what you didn't. As I've said, I'm pretty new to the OUAT-verse, and I'd like any comments I can get on how to improve. Thanks, guys!


	4. The Truth

"Nope."

Regina raised her brows in surprise, realizing belatedly that it really _shouldn't_ actually surprise her that Emma was disputing her request. It, too, should not surprise Regina that the prospect of a challenge – one that, thus far, no one but Emma Swan had offered her since her days at Leopold's command – still awakened such a thrill of delight within her.

Of course, Regina could do nothing less than rise to it.

"_Yes_, Sheriff," Regina argued. "If you wish for that foul little imp's son to be spending time with _ours_, then I fully expect each visit with him to be chaperoned."

"Regina," Emma sighed, rolling her third glass of Jack and coke against her progressively flushing cheek, "_no_. I'm sorry, okay? I get that you want me to watch Henry while he's with Neal, and I don't blame you for that because it's honestly probably the best way to go about doing this – but _I_ can't do that."

Regina's forehead creased in confusion and she shook her head, just slightly. "I don't understand. Is this not the man you professed to love?"

Emma offered a theatric groan, no doubt partially induced by the alcohol, as the noise was more vocal than even Emma tended to allow.

"He's- Look, it's complicated," Emma huffed. "Yeah, I said that," she agreed, exasperated, "and I thought I meant it at the time, but I don't, okay? I don't love him, and I'm truthfully surprised that it took even _me_ so long to understand it; I'm a little slow, sometimes, but I'm not an idiot," she concluded dryly.

"Explain," Regina directed, lightly trailing her fingers along the heated flesh of her neck.

She was a little concerned about how warm she was becoming. While Regina had carefully catalogued the symptoms of Emma's mild intoxication, she hadn't been quite so attentive to her own. She felt warm, and perhaps a bit sleepy, and her tongue – apparently – was forgoing requests and skipping straight to the demands more typical of her profession.

"Explain _what?_" Emma puffed out irritably, tracking the fingers of her free hand through blonde curls. "The guy's a douche, Regina. He left me to rot in prison because a notorious liar – _the_ notorious liar, in fact; fucking _Pinnochio_ – told him that it was my _destiny_ or whatever. That's bullshit. He's not a good guy, okay? I thought he was, but he isn't. That's it."

"And this only just now occurred to you?" Regina quipped with a snort. "My dear," she purred, shifting forward slightly in her chair, "I suspect there might be a bit more of your parents in you than you might be willing to believe. Idiocy _does_ tend to run in the family."

Emma's eyes flickered, briefly; Regina couldn't discern exactly what it was, but – for just a moment – the alcohol cleared from Emma's dilated pupils and the emerald shades surrounding them brightened with foreign wetness before the look was gone.

Again.

"Why do you do that?" Regina inquired, head lofting to the left in her bemusement.

She hadn't actually intended to ask the question, but it had been bothering her for two weeks, now – since her first date with Robin, and every one of the other three since. Regina had been waiting for an appropriate time, and she could admit that perhaps this was not it, but Regina wasn't sure that there would _ever_ be an appropriate time to invade Emma's privacy. Put in that perspective, Regina could hardly be blamed for taking advantage of the blonde's loose tongue.

"What?" Emma sighed into her glass, taking a heavy swallow from it before setting it on a coaster atop the coffee table.

"Close yourself off," Regina elaborated, briefly.

_From me_, she internally added, feeling the sting of Emma's withdrawal more acutely, tonight, than it had been in recent weeks.

Regina nearly felt uncomfortable with how much she truly cared, but she was far beyond denying it. Emma had been doing this for weeks now, and Regina Mills had never been known for her patience. Not only was she baffled by the change; Regina was thoroughly irritated with it.

It wasn't right, but Regina felt it, anyway.

While no soul in their right mind would dare to label Emma Swan an open book, she had always been honest with Regina, even when the former queen had no desire to hear the blonde's truths. Emma wasn't exactly _lying_, but she was certainly keeping _something_ hidden from Regina; in addition to the pangs of hurt, Regina couldn't quite keep herself from wondering if the sheriff was plotting something.

She immediately felt contrite for the thoughts afterward, but history had taught her one, singular lesson, many times over, and it was, quite simply, that other people could not be trusted.

Regina had made an exception for Emma – though it certainly was not an easy feat – but she now found herself doing something that she hadn't truly done since before their time in Neverland.

She was questioning Emma's motives.

It was ridiculous, Regina reminded herself, because Emma had proven, in every moment that counted, that she would stand by Regina, even in difficult times. And yet, she continued to feel guilty. But her mind could produce no other logical explanation for Emma's behavior, and it unnerved her. She was desperate for another conclusion.

Regina simply needed Emma to offer one.

"I don't – "

"Oh, you do," Regina waved away the denial with mild aggravation. She'd expected it, really, so she couldn't bring herself to be too angry over it. She'd have done the same, after all, and she and Emma– they weren't so different, in that respect. "You have done it many times in the past, Sheriff – but not with me."

Emma's eyes flicked to the left – in the direction of the door, Regina noted – before meeting Regina's own, and swiftly ducking away again.

"Emma?" Regina voiced more softly.

Though she itched for answers, Regina was concerned. Emma looked… Quite honestly, she looked _cornered_. Trapped, and frightened, and waiting for some terrible, fatal blow to be delivered, and that wasn't like Emma.

Emma, when questioned, would generally either ignore the question altogether and brush it away with a joke, or she would throw a hot retort back that explicitly conveyed_ don't fuck with me_ and _mind your own damn business_ all at once.

"What?" Emma choked out, swallowing thickly before quietly, but much more smoothly repeating, "What?"

Regina sighed to herself and wracked her brain for a solution. She wanted Emma to be comfortable – or at least more comfortable than the trembling mess of bone and limb that she was right then – and she ached to comfort her friend; but Regina also had every intention of setting her paranoia to rest by the end of this conversation, so she refused to retract the question.

"I understand," she heard herself say.

Despite that it had not been planned, Regina _did_ understand; she was no fonder of being forced to reveal her own personal feelings than Emma was. She was no stranger to the sort of discomfort that she was putting Emma through, so Regina took a moment to consider her next words.

She seemingly waited a moment too long, however, because Emma spoke before Regina had even decided on an appropriate course of action.

"Regina," Emma laughed bitterly, shaking her head and making a quick swipe for her drink, "this time, I really don't think you do. I promise everything's fine, but, please…" Emma said, finding Regina's eyes again – and whatever the sheriff was about to ask of her, Regina could all but _feel_ the strength of the plea radiating from those desperate green orbs. "Leave it alone," Emma beseeched.

Though Regina would later scold herself for not having learned _better_, by now, she had never been very adept at letting things lie.

"I am poking my nose where, once again, it does not belong," Regina began slowly, "and I have chosen a very poor time to do so," she continued, "but I do not regret asking, Emma. I do not regret asking, because I have found myself- concerned," she ground out, the words tasting odd on her tongue, and the sincerity behind them even more so. "I have found myself concerned for you, in the past weeks, and – though I am not proud to admit it – I have found myself concerned that perhaps the reason your behavior has become so reserved in my presence is because your intentions are not as pure as your title as Savior would lead me to believe."

"Seriously?" Emma gaped, openly offended. "Regina, come on, you know that's not – "

"I know _nothing_, Miss Swan, that you do not _tell me_," Regina snapped, frustrated. "I do not _want_ to believe that you have nefarious purposes, Emma, but if you do not talk to me, how am I to believe anything else?"

"You could _trust_ me!" Emma reared forward, hovering above her knees and obviously fighting the desire to launch up on her feet.

"It is no secret that trust is not something I am quick to bestow upon others," Regina carefully paced her words to keep the fury from seeping into them, but she feared the statement emerged much colder than she anticipated.

"Wow," Emma laughed humorlessly. "_Wow_. Regina, do you trust _anyone_ whose heart you don't hold in your hand?" She snarked rashly.

Regina felt wounded by the blow. She knew she couldn't exactly fault Emma for lashing out – the blonde had done nothing worthy of Regina's skepticism, and it certainly wasn't _Emma's_ fault that Regina was so jaded – but it still had hurt, particularly coming _from_ Emma.

"No," Regina snarled instinctively. "I do not."

It was a mistake.

Regina was hurt, and angry, and she had lashed out, too – but Regina knew it was a mistake the moment after she'd released the words to the world, because whatever emotions had been flashing in Emma's eyes recently, it was _nothing_ compared to this.

Only, this time Emma didn't mask it.

The Savior's entire frame quaked, even as it crumbled. Her face fell in perfect synchrony with her shoulders, and her mouth hung open in shock and injury, with trembling lips placing special emphasis on the _injury_.

Oh, but her eyes.

Emma's eyes were wet and bright, but it was the betrayal in them that shook Regina. Sharp, hurt, unabashed _betrayal_.

Regina was familiar with the feeling, as she'd felt it more than once in her lifetime – and she had more often caused it, in her less morally guided days – but it had never affected her so profoundly to witness before this moment.

It occurred to her, then – watching Emma fall apart and shrinking so low in the cushions of Regina's couch that the brunette feared she might very well slip between them – that there were very few things that Regina could have said to destroy their relationship more than _that_.

What had she been _thinking?_

Regina _did_ trust Emma – far more than any other, at the _very_ least – but she'd allowed her doubts and insecurities to, once more, overcome her. But that didn't matter. She could deal with her own personal failures some other time.

What truly mattered, here, was that all she and Emma shared in their friendship relied almost _solely_ on trust. And Regina had just announced that she had invested none within the blonde.

It didn't matter that it wasn't true; Emma didn't know that. All she knew was what Regina had told her.

Regina darkly considered the irony of that thought, matched against the nearly identical one she had spoken to Emma just moments before.

"Take it," Emma growled out, the words rumbling from somewhere deep within her chest as she slammed her drink back on the table, the clinking ice giving away her unsteady hands.

"I beg your pardon?" Regina rasped, and failed to clear her throat afterward, so focused was she on finding a way to somehow correct her horrendous error.

"My _heart_, Regina," Emma bit out furiously. "If it's the only way you'll trust me, then just fucking _take it_."

"Emma," Regina puffed out breathlessly, fervently shaking her head, "I don't want your heart. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said – "

"_Take it_," Emma insisted, jerking up to her feet and taking the three quick strides to Regina's chair before snatching her wrist and pulling her up, all while strategically thrusting Regina's palm against her chest.

Regina felt her own eyes well up as she continued to shake her head, tugging at her stolen appendage despite Emma's bruising, unyielding grasp.

"I don't want it," Regina whispered, hating herself impossibly more as Emma's anger offered the final, emotional shove that guided the tears from the pools in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Emma. I'm sorry. I don't _want_ it," Regina insisted frantically.

"It's yours anyway," Emma fumed, relentless.

Regina's brows furrowed in confusion, but she could do nothing to help herself understand, and she wasn't about to ask anything else of Emma after the things she'd said. As it was, asking was apparently unnecessary.

"My _heart_, Regina," Emma elaborated for the second time, bitterness seeping beneath her words and stewing in a boiling vat of rage and pain. "_It's yours anyway, so take it_," Emma hissed. "That's what you wanted to know, isn't it?" She pressed condescendingly, fingers convulsively clenching around Regina's wrist. "Why I've been so '_closed off'?_" She mocked.

"Well, I'm a goddamn jealous _bitch,_ Regina," Emma sneered when Regina simply failed to produce a response beyond a gaping jaw. "You have my heart, and you have Robin's, and what do I have? _Nothing. _Not a _damn thing_, Regina. Not even your fucking _trust_," Emma chuckled hollowly.

"How – " Regina tried, but shook her head, _again_, like a mindless _peasant_.

How could that possibly be true? Emma couldn't _love_ her, could she? But isn't that exactly what the blonde was so emphatically trying to convey?

That hardly seemed fair.

Regina – the Evil Queen responsible for untold deaths and tortures and pillages and _fear_ – had supposedly found True Love twice. How could it be right that Emma Swan – the _Savior_; the woman who, already, had suffered so much at the cruel hands of fate – fell in love with a woman who could not love her in return as long as Robin Hood lived?

And this was what Regina had pushed so hard to know? _This_, which could destroy all the progress that they've made, and the friendship she so valued? _This_, which could ruin all that they had worked to build for Henry?

It wasn't in her nature, Regina knew, but it would have well behooved her to heed Emma's advice.

_Leave it alone._

She certainly regretted not doing so, now, but that was far too little, and far too late. Because there Emma was, not an inch from Regina's face and practically spitting her emotional distress straight into it, breaths panting and scraping from and through her lungs, and Regina could find not a single question to ask, nor a sympathy to offer.

Regina simply couldn't speak.

Then, a moment later, she was cosmically pardoned from the responsibility of doing so.

A sudden, debilitating quake rocked the floor beneath them, jolting Regina forward into Emma's arms. If she'd had a thought to spare, Regina would have marveled at the fact that, even _with_ Emma's present feelings, the blonde still caught Regina in her embrace and soothingly stroked clumsy, quivering fingers through her hair as she protectively held Regina's head against the crook of her neck.

As it was, Regina was inebriated and already on overload, and only one thought truly occurred to her.

_What the hell was that?_

* * *

_Author's Note:_ Hm. I don't like when they fight for real (you know, with solid reasons instead of senseless bickering), but I thought it was necessary. I couldn't really see Emma sharing her feelings with Regina while so determined to see her happy unless Regina really pissed her off enough to force it out of her, and this was the best way I could think to make that happen. Did I manage alright? Let me know, please; these two characters are so intense, and I'm a little insecure about how well (or poorly) I've managed their argument. Feedback would be much appreciated. Thanks!


	5. The Savior

Emma held tightly to the nape of Regina's neck with one hand, with her opposite arm still hugged securely around the brunette's trim waist. She had no idea what the hell had just happened, but – even with Emma's limited knowledge of the subject – she knew well enough that it had sure as hell _felt_ like magic, which did not bode well.

The sheriff took a moment to collect her thoughts – barely fifteen seconds, at most – before she slowly eased Regina from the encirclement of her limbs. The mayor was dazed, and offered a vacant glare to the liquor cabinet, as though blaming its contents for her present confusion.

Regardless, Regina seemed fine, so Emma's mind began to rapidly churn, and the next clear thought that emerged rolled rapidly off her tongue.

"Henry!" She shouted for the boy, grabbing Regina's wrist and pulling her to the stairs.

Emma leaped up to the landing taking the steps two at a time in spite of Regina's stumbling feet. She was still angry with the woman, yes, but that feeling was pretty distant, just then, and it wasn't that fact that had Emma refusing to slow her pace. The blonde was worried for their son, and, in a moment – when she jolted from her apparent shock – Regina would be, too.

Whatever the fuck had happened between the two of them down there in that study, and whatever the hell that quake had been, Henry's safety was their priority. If Regina wasn't in the right state of mind to consider it right now, then Emma would have to do it for both of them.

She imagined Regina could forgive her for being less than concerned about her Jimmy Choos.

With her heart thumping manically against her chest, Emma threw open the door to Henry's bedroom and almost _laughed_. It definitely felt odd to be experiencing amusement in this circumstance, but Emma's emotions had been put through the wringer tonight, and she wasn't all that sure that she wasn't a little hysterical.

Still, though, there was some measure of entertainment to be found in the concept that Henry had successfully slumbered on through some mysterious, magical earthquake. The kid slept like the dead, and he definitely hadn't come by that blessing through Emma.

Swallowing and releasing a breathless sigh of relief, Emma sunk back against the wall and promptly slumped down it, dropping her head in her hands.

Henry was safe. Regina was safe.

Emma knew that there were other people that she probably should call, but her hands still shook with remnants of anger and fear, and she was the furthest _possible_ thing from steady and rational. All she knew was that the occupants of this house were safe – at least for the time being – and Emma was satisfied enough to sit there on the floor of Henry's bedroom to be sure that they both stayed that way.

"He's alright," Regina murmured absently, venturing half a step forward before pausing and evidently deciding against waking their son.

Emma still couldn't detect much emotion on Regina's face, but she thought that might be for the better, because Emma didn't really have it in her to offer the woman comfort. She was tired, emotional, and still a bit drunk – though admittedly sobered a fair amount, after their conversation downstairs and the tremors of the earth that had followed.

Emma really couldn't offer Regina much of anything at all, let alone _comfort_.

"He's alright," Emma agreed raggedly.

"Emma – " Regina began cautiously, shifting slightly to face her.

Determined not to explore either of their feelings any further in favor of focusing on the potential (probable) threat they'd just experienced, Emma interrupted.

"What the hell _was_ that, Regina?" She croaked, her throat sore from any number of the low, scraping tones she'd used earlier in the night. She carefully kept her voice lowered to keep from disturbing Henry's rest, but her vehemence was unmistakable.

"I- I don't know," Regina shook her head.

"But it was magic, right? I mean, you felt it, too, didn't you?" Emma pressed insistently.

Regina still didn't seem to be all there, with Emma, but she was speaking, and that was good enough.

"Yes," Regina nodded a little. "Yes, it was magic. I – " Regina broke off and frowned bemusedly as Emma's cell phone chimed a jangly tune in her pocket, like she'd never heard such a sound before in her life.

Emma groaned, and lifted her hips enough to slip the device from the tight confines of her jeans before flicking her finger across the screen to answer it.

"Yeah?" Emma rasped.

"Emma!" Snow cried into the speaker. "Gods, Emma, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Emma mechanically replied. "You?"

"Us, too," Snow answered tremulously. "We're- we're at home. Me and Charming. And Red's here, too. Where are you?"

"I'm fine," Emma repeated, fending off the inexplicable urge to roll her eyes. "Me and Henry are at Regina's," she said, pointedly ignoring the flash of irritation that peaked through Regina's previously emotionless gaze in response to Emma's grammatical failure.

Honestly, of _all _the things that Regina could be worried about right now, Emma's poor grammar should have been the least of the former queen's concerns. But that look on her face was one that Emma recognized and was very familiar with, and she knew – without a single doubt in her mind – that it was, indeed, her grammar that had caused it.

Fucking ridiculous was what that was.

"Emma…" Snow began slowly, then began again. "Emma, did she- did she do this? Did she do something to cause that earthquake?"

"_What?_" Emma growled lowly. "Of course not!"

"Are you sure?" Snow worried. "It's just- that wouldn't be all that strange, you know, and Regina's history – "

"Regina's _history_," Emma spat, "is her _history_, Mary Margaret. If you want her to let go of it, then you have to let go of it, too, okay? I've been with her all damn night, and she _didn't_ do this."

"Well, it wouldn't have _had_ to be done tonight, Emma. Magic is tricky. Sometimes it takes time, and she wouldn't necessarily have even had to be _doing_ anything at the time. I just want you to be sure, sweetie."

"I'm _sure_," Emma snarled, and promptly ended the call, carelessly dropping the phone to the floor beside her.

"Of course she would believe that I did this," Regina snapped after a moment, any former sense of shock now being translated into fury.

"Well, you didn't, and it honestly would have been easier to figure out what the fuck is happening if you had, because that pretty much leaves Gold. And, I gotta tell you, Regina, I am so many different kinds of _not_ in the mood to deal with that slimy bastard right now."

Regina's eyes flickered with something that looked like awe, and, though Emma couldn't be _positive_ about what had caused it, she had a pretty good idea that Regina was startled, still, by Emma's trust in her.

Even if, Emma thought bitterly, Regina returned none of it.

But Emma still knew Regina, and she knew that, whatever had happened tonight, Regina wasn't the source of it.

"I'll go," Regina offered quietly.

"No. You're going to stay with Henry," Emma ordered swiftly.

"I am perfectly capable of handling that coward myself, Miss Swan," Regina glowered, straightening imperiously to loom over Emma's already diminished form.

"Fucking Christ, Regina," Emma puffed out tiredly, scraping both hands through her hair so roughly that her scalp tingled with the pressure. "I never said you weren't _capable_. You'd probably be the better fucking choice, anyway," Emma mumbled under her breath. "But you and Gold in the same room usually results in wasted time and a lot of threats, and I need something to do, anyway.

"Besides, _I'm_ going to be the one who has to report back to David and Mary Margaret, and they're not going to believe a single word I say after they find out that you were the one responsible for the investigation. Plus, as far as I'm concerned, Henry doesn't need to know about any of this until morning, and if he wakes up and you're not here, he's going to know something's up, and he's going to go poking around – like _always_ – and probably get himself into trouble, okay? It's better for_ Henry_ if you stay."

Regina looked indecisive for a moment, but then blew out a reluctant, exhausted breath of air and conceded with a nod. "For Henry."

Emma pushed herself off of the ground and swallowed. Regina's discomfort was clear, and – though Emma couldn't find it within herself to wrap her arms around the older woman – she reached her palm forward and folded her fingers around Regina's bicep. The sheriff tried to keep her eyes lowered, but, after a moment, she raised them to meet with the concerned depths of Regina's chocolate brown.

Tightening her grip gently, Emma murmured, "Thank you."

Regina bit her lip and nodded in return, protectively curling her arms across her torso, looking more vulnerable than Emma truly cared to see her. Still, Emma was in no condition to be pushing boundaries, and she didn't have much that could make Regina feel better, anyway, so she pretended not to notice and allowed her hand to fall. The corners of her lips turned upward slightly, into an expression that (Emma hoped) was at least mildly soothing.

Emma then turned and headed for the door. Palming the doorknob, Emma paused as Regina spoke.

"I'm sorry, Emma."

She didn't even know what it was, exactly, that Regina was apologizing for. Not loving her back? Forcing Emma to tell her about it, when she'd clearly had no desire to do so? Doubting Emma's intentions? Was she apologizing for not trusting Emma, too?

Emma wasn't sure, and, even if she was, she'd hardly have any idea how to reply to any one of those things. Instead of making the attempt, Emma turned her head slightly over her shoulder and inclined her head in acknowledgement before she shoved through the door and closed it with a soft _snick_ behind her.

* * *

Gold's was a bust.

The wizard had, at least, _appeared_ as equally bemused as Emma, though he was less than concerned about the magical phenomena that had occurred. His apathy had Emma tamping down on her rage more than once, which had caused the sly man's eyes to glimmer with glee, but he had sworn no knowledge of the earthquake.

Emma wasn't sure about whether he was to be believed or not, but she was marginally soothed by the fact that Belle had been in the room when he had vowed it. Her inherent lie detector hadn't pinged off, either.

The Savior felt slightly confident that he was telling the truth, but that hadn't stopped her from threatening his life and livelihood, should she find out that he was behind it.

Regardless, Emma knew nothing more after leaving the pawnshop than she had upon entering. Gold had promised (with a severely aggravating roll of his eyes) that he would look into the matter, but not before morning, so Emma had no choice but to hang her head in defeat and sulk out of the store.

Emma reached for her phone to text Mary Margaret, but belatedly realized that she didn't have it on her. She must've left it in Henry's room.

Heaving a sigh, Emma glanced at the clock tower. _10:15_, it read.

Emma was practically dead on her feet, but managed to drag them toward the loft she'd once shared with her 'mother.' She hadn't ended their last chat on a good note, and – despite her exhaustion – she knew they'd want to be kept informed. Since she'd have to make her way back to Regina's for both her cell and her car, anyway, Emma figured she'd get _this_ particular nightmare out of the way.

It felt odd to knock on the door, but Emma didn't exactly live there, anymore, and it wouldn't be right for her to just walk in.

"Emma!" Snow cried as she embraced the sheriff in a suffocating grip.

"Hey. Can I come in?" Emma asked, ending the interaction after a moment when she became sure that Mary Margaret would, more than likely, hold on to her all night long if Emma allowed it.

And, seriously, fuck _that_. Emma already had enough to deal with. Her mommy-and-daddy issues definitely did _not_ need to be explored, today.

"Of course you can," Snow nodded fervently. "Do you want tea? Charming," she called, ushering Emma into the house, "Emma's here."

"Emma," David sighed, relief coloring his words as he, too, stretched out an arm to curl around Emma's shoulders. The blonde prince offered a small kiss to the crown of Emma's blonde curls, but – unlike with Snow – Emma didn't need to push him away, as he withdrew from her himself. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm fine," Emma replied, waving her palm upward in a gesture of 'hello' to Ruby, hovering behind him with a tiny, nervous smile. "I went to talk to Gold."

"What?" Snow frowned. "Emma," she said, sounding disappointed, "you should have let Charming go with you. Rumplestiltskin is _dangerous_."

"Yeah," Emma deadpanned, "I know. But time is sort of a factor, here, since we have no idea what the hell is going on or what it's going to do. But it doesn't matter, anyway. He doesn't know anything. I don't trust him, but I really don't think he does. When he's involved, he's pretty much singing _I-know-something-you-don't-know _the entire time I'm talking to him. He said he'd look into it, but the asshole's not going to start searching until morning.

"I walked here from Regina's to see if anything looked different, but – as far as I can tell – everything in town is the same. I don't know what happened, but I do know it was magical. That's all I have. But it's been a couple hours since the earthquake and nothing's happened, so, honestly, I'm just going to get some sleep and worry about it tomorrow."

"But – " Snow frowned.

Ruby rolled her eyes and interrupted, "Come on, Snow. Look at her; she's exhausted. Do you have a better idea?"

Emma directed a tiny, grateful smile in Ruby's direction for her quick support.

Snow bit her lip and considered for a moment before she reluctantly shook her head. "I guess not, but, Emma, you really should be more concerned about this… You're the _Savior_," she implored softly.

_Is she fucking kidding?_ Emma wondered incredulously.

Emma was so over all of the Savior bullshit. She'd done the job they'd sent her away for, and she'd broken the damn curse like she was supposed to. She didn't owe them anything else.

She was the sheriff, and that was enough for Emma; she'd protect the town to the best of her ability, but, damn it, it wasn't her job to fix _everything_. It was her job to catch the asshole responsible. It wasn't like she was forbidding anyone else from offering assistance.

Literally, Emma thought wryly, _anyone _else.

Everyone in this damn town was more knowledgeable about the kind of shit that she was expected to go up against; why was it always assumed that _she_ would be the one to make the problem go away? She wasn't a god, for Christ's sake. She was only human.

Only Emma.

"I _am_ worried," Emma frowned, swiping her hand tiredly down her left cheek. "But I don't know anything, right now. Regina doesn't know anything; Gold doesn't know anything… You guys _certainly_ don't know anything," she scowled pointedly, "and until we find out what's going on, there's nothing I can do. I'm beat, and it's been a long fucking night, and, whatever it is that's – _once again_ – threatening this town, I won't be able to deal with it if I don't get some goddamn sleep. So, right now, that's my plan, okay? I'll see you in the morning," she said to David, before turning on her heel and making for the door.

She still had to get back to Regina's.

Emma just hoped that the mayor hadn't come to her damn senses during their brief time apart, because - if that happened - Emma would more than likely be received with nothing more than a door slammed in her face.

* * *

_Au_thor's_ Note: _So, the response to the last chapter was _incredible. _You are all amazing. Thank you so much. I know this chapter was mostly filler, but there's a lot going on that needs to be dealt with outside of Regina and Emma's not-yet-romance. :P


	6. The Tension

Henry's toys littered the floor of his bedroom.

It wasn't quite _so_ odd, Regina supposed, considering the earthquake that had brought the mayor to his side in the first place, but it was still a bit jarring. Regina had been so lost in her own shock earlier that she had hardly spared a glance toward the expensive vases and paintings that decorated the downstairs floor, before she'd been forcibly tugged to the upper level of the house.

There was probably quite a bit of cleaning up to be done downstairs, too.

Mindful of her sleeping boy, Regina gently brushed pieces of his brunette hair from his forehead and mapped a kiss along the cleared patch of flesh before she began tidying up his things. The last thing she wanted was for Henry to be frightened the moment he awoke, and she couldn't have him thinking mobs and burglaries before she'd even finished his breakfast.

Tucking a fallen picture frame under her arm, Regina vowed to replace it before Henry could cut his fingers on its cracked surface. Her eyes performed a brief evaluation of the room to be sure that everything was in its proper place, and landed quickly on the cellphone on the floor. It wasn't difficult to deduce that Emma had left it behind, so Regina scooped it up and hastily pocketed the device before departing, leaving the door to Henry's bedroom partially ajar as she left him to his dreams.

_Oh_, it had been such a long night.

Regina didn't know what to think or feel about any of it. Perhaps it wasn't her responsibility to think or feel _anything_ about Emma's feelings for her, but Regina _did_; she merely couldn't understand _what_ she thought or felt about them.

Sadness, certainly. That one was easy enough to detect.

Regina was sad for Emma; sad that, once again, Emma would be denied affection from someone whom she cared for. Regina knew that feeling, and Regina knew that it hurt. Oh, it hurt terribly. And Regina was moderately devastated that she would be cause for that rejection in Emma Swan, when the sheriff had already experienced it more times than her short life should have allowed.

Fate had not been kind to Emma.

But another part of Regina – perhaps a larger part – was angry with Emma. Though it could hardly be the Savior's fault, Emma's feelings threatened to destroy _everything_. This could profoundly hinder the progress that she had made in her relationship with Henry, and, in addition, Regina sincerely had no desire to lose her friend. Misplaced though it may be, she was angry that Emma felt for her, and she was nearly angry, too, that she could not love her in return.

Regina supposed that, by now, she could recognize her anger as a shield against her fear.

Emma understood Regina. The former queen had detested that fact on several occasions, but Emma _understood_ her, when no other had bothered even to try. And, in most cases, Regina was rather fond of the notion that she understood _Emma_. They were Henry's parents, together, and – given the right circumstances – they bled more passion into one another than Robin Hood could even fathom, even if it most frequently emerged in the form of fury.

Emma was Regina's only friend, and that relationship meant a great deal to Regina. She didn't want to lose it. And what if their passion _could_ be more than the simple conflict of differing personalities that Regina had taken it for?

But that hardly made sense, anyway. Even if their relationship had improved – and Regina knew that it _had_ improved; _immensely_ – they were still opposite sides of the same coin. Emma was all that Regina wasn't. Emma was good, and kind, and fundamentally protective of all forms of life – not only the lives of those who mattered to her, personally. Emma was also brash and blunt and impulsive and an utter klutz, at times, where Regina saw herself as poised and manipulative and, quite frankly, the very counterpoint to Emma's inherent _decency_.

And, needless to say, they often clashed. Even as friends – and certainly, _certainly_ before that – Regina and Emma clashed like warring titans. They brought out the worst in one another, and their argument earlier in the night had only further proven that. So, Regina concluded, there was an honest chance that she was being emotional and rash, and allowing consideration for thoughts that ought to have been swiftly expelled.

_Robin_ was Regina's True Love.

She didn't understand it, because, though his company was fine, Regina didn't feel much in his presence aside from skepticism and doubt, and a bit of relief from her near-constant loneliness. She did little more than hope that, in their time together, those feelings would fade, to be replaced with care and love.

She wondered, for a moment, if they ever truly _would_. Regina wondered if she ever truly _could_ care for and love Robin of Loxley.

But then there was that niggling voice in her head (that niggling voice that, truthfully, sounded quite a bit like that damn cricket, if Regina were to pay it any mind) that whispered to Regina that even by questioning it, Regina was – once again – working herself back toward the self-destructive path she'd invested so much effort in steering clear of.

She _knew_ Robin was her True Love; how on earth could it benefit her to entertain notions of being with Emma Swan?

Though she might not deserve it, Regina had been given a second chance at love with Robin. She refused to spoil that opportunity before she'd even given her relationship with the thief a chance to truly blossom. The mayor was intent on having her happy ending, and she resolved to give Robin Hood the proper chance to help her bring it to fruition.

But, somehow, that only made Regina feel worse.

* * *

The knock at Regina's door was expected, though the harshness of it startled her.

Emma was well aware that Henry was asleep, and she'd already voiced that she had every desire to see their son remain in that state until morning. Regina knew that the blonde would need her car and phone – and, honestly, Regina expected an update on Emma's visit with Gold, as well – but must she be so _loud?_

The night had been long enough as it was, so Regina couldn't find the anger within herself that she might normally muster to greet Emma with. When she opened the door, it was with weary exasperation, and an exhausted reprimand lingering on the tip of her tongue.

It melted almost immediately when it was not Emma Swan who stood on her front porch, but Robin Hood, instead.

"Regina," he smiled, relieved, pulling large arms around her in a hug that felt entirely too restrictive.

"It's rather late, don't you think?" Regina inquired dryly, cheek pressed against his firm chest and her hands rising to half-heartedly return the embrace.

"A bit past ten, if that odd sundial in my truck is to be believed," Robin chuckled into her hair.

Barely refraining from rolling her eyes, Regina withdrew and folded her arms across her chest. "Henry's asleep," she admonished quietly.

"I had assumed," Robin nodded, sheepishly lowering his head. "Roland is, as well – safe with my men, of course. I only wanted to be sure that you were alright."

It was a nice thought, Regina conceded, and it was rather sweet of him to check on her, though it had been some time since the quake, by now. If she _hadn't_ been alright, she thought wryly, he'd have arrived far too late to do much of anything about it.

"That's kind of you," Regina smiled anyway, feeling that the emotion never quite touched her face as she willed it to. "I'm well, thank you."

"Of course," Robin flushed, offering a small grin. "Did you need help cleaning up, my Queen?" He asked earnestly, shifting concerned eyes around the devastated foyer.

"There's no need," Regina shrugged slightly, staunchly ignoring the sick feeling that manifested in her stomach at the title he had chosen for her.

It had sounded reverent, and devoted, and all the things that she had expected of her subjects when she'd ruled over the Enchanted Forest. And none of that was what she wanted, now.

Regina lazily flicked her wrist and allowed wisps of her magic to repair the damage done to her home for her. She was simply too worn to be bothered repairing the damage by hand.

Robin frowned. "Was that truly necessary, Regina?"

Regina offered a bemused look in return. "Necessary?"

"_Magic_," Robin emphasized. "Was it truly necessary to use it?"

Lifting her brow and straightening her spine, Regina replied, "Of what concern is my magic to you?"

Robin sighed heavily and lowered his shoulders. "In my experience, all magic comes with a price – and the price, Regina? It's never worth it."

"Then perhaps your experience is more limited than mine," Regina replied coolly. "And I can assure you, dear," she cooed condescendingly, "that it most certainly _is_."

Robin worked his jaw for a response, his forehead creasing in consternation, but before he could manage a reply, booted feet tapped against the concrete leading to Regina's door.

Simultaneously relieved and horrified by Emma's abrupt appearance, Regina maintained her pose and kept her silence, unsure of what to say or how she could possibly divest of the cloying tension that clawed within her chest.

"I- left my phone. And my car," Emma said stiffly, eyeing Robin with suspicion before she sighed tiredly and hunched her shoulders, ducking her eyes to the ground.

"Of course," Regina nodded, pulling the blonde's phone from her pocket and relinquishing it back to its rightful owner. "Your keys are inside, Sheriff. Please, come in."

Emma shuffled forward and through the doorway, draping her jacket over the coatrack before hovering uncertainly behind Regina. When Robin accepted the invitation as an open one and made to enter as well, Regina firmly placed a hand on his chest and shook her head. "I think it's time you leave."

"Regina – "

"It's been a long night, dear. As you can see, I'm perfectly fine, and your evening's mission may now be considered complete. If you'll excuse us, the sheriff and I have matters to discuss that will likely offend your rather delicate sensibilities. If you hadn't noticed," Regina employed her practiced mayoral smile, "a rather cataclysmic _magical_ event took place earlier this evening, and something needs to be done about it."

"I didn't mean to offend, Your Majesty," Robin bumbled, as Emma snorted softly from the foyer. Regina almost smiled, feeling vindicated by her assumption that Emma would have scoffed at Robin's deference to her royal status. "I – "

"Of course you didn't," Regina said, patting his chest twice. "The fact remains, however, that Miss Swan and I have a situation to handle that requires more than your level of expertise. Thank you for checking in, but I'm afraid your services aren't needed here."

Despite her earlier resolution not to ruin things with Robin, that did not mean she had to bend over backward to please him. Magic was a way of life, and – though Regina had survived many, many years without it – once it had begun to thrum within her again, _not_ using it simply hadn't been an option.

The repercussions of refraining from magic altogether would have been catastrophic. Even Emma – who knew next to _nothing_ about how to control her powers – occasionally had the desperate need to release them, particularly when emotional. Lights would flicker and blow, altogether, and, on one occasion, Regina had been regaled by a simply _beautiful_ tale of how Emma had accidentally blown up Mary Margaret's pumpkin pie until it had exploded in the woman's face.

True Love or not, Regina refused to be belittled for commissioning the use of her powers – _particularly_ for something so harmless as a cleaning spell. The only price paid for _that_ was the chance that some of her things might not have been returned to their usual places, and Regina might spend some time searching for them later.

In Regina's mind, it was _well_ worth not spending the time to clean it herself so late at night and already drained of most of her energy.

With a surly nod, Robin took a step back. "Then I bid you goodnight, Regina. Shall I see you soon?" He inquired hopefully.

"We'll work something out, I'm sure," Regina said, strained.

Though displeased with him, at the moment, Regina was more concerned about Emma. She couldn't quite see her, but she could all but feel the blonde's walls rising and her face flattening into neutrality. All Regina truly wanted, in that moment, was to get Robin off her porch.

Robin leaned inward slightly and pressed a small, innocent kiss to the corner of her mouth. Regina's stomach lurched uncomfortably, and she remained carefully still until he pulled apart with a tiny, hopeful smile and a wave before jaunting back the way he'd come.

"Emma, I'm sorry," Regina rushed nervously, closing the door and locking it before spinning on her heel to face the emotionless sheriff with sincere apology decorating the lines of the mayor's face.

Emma merely shrugged. "Are you okay?"

"What? I- Yes, of course," Regina frowned, confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Things looked a little tense, is all," Emma shrugged again. "None of my business. Sorry I asked. Listen, I talked to Rumple," she said, following behind Regina who – with great hesitance – was leading Emma back to the study where their night had truly begun.

Regina recognized the change of subject for what it was, but – as she had not even the slightest idea of how to handle Emma's feelings about Robin's appearance at her house – the former queen gratefully allowed for the distraction.

And, she justified to herself, there were more important things for them to work through, anyway.

"And what did that imp have to say for himself?" Regina asked, gesturing Emma to the sofa and deciding that, given her night, she'd allow herself another glass of cider. Her exhaustion clearly wouldn't be relieved by sleep, just yet, and Regina had well had enough of the tension in her shoulders.

She held up an empty glass toward Emma, offering the Savior a drink of her own, but Emma shook her head and leaned back against the sofa with her eyes shut, looking so very similar to how she had been positioned before the chaotic events of the evening had begun to brew.

"He said he didn't do it," Emma stated plainly.

"And you believed him?" Regina tilted her head over her shoulder, leveling Emma with an incredulous gaze.

"Despite that _every _fiber of my being is looking for a reason not to," Emma rubbed the side of her face wearily, "yeah," she admitted, "I believe him. You know how smug he is; even if he's cryptic as hell about it, he's usually pretty eager to let us know when he's causing trouble."

"Mm," Regina hummed thoughtfully, sipping from her glass as she lowered herself into the armchair.

Emma wasn't wrong about that. Though Rumple often played the long con (and his visions of the future, however vague, often contributed), he never was shy or humble; he claimed his part in most of it, when he chose to make it obvious to everyone else that something was happening. That didn't mean he shared what it was, _exactly_, that he was up to – but he certainly made it clear that he was involved, somehow.

"I suppose I could do some research," Regina sighed, eventually.

"That's what Gold said," Emma groaned.

"Oh, but I imagine Rumple wasn't quite so quick to offer, was he, dear?" Regina teased with a chuckle.

"It's Gold," Emma deadpanned. "What do you think?"

"I'll begin searching through my books first thing in the morning. You're welcome to join me, if you like," Regina offered hesitantly.

She knew things were tense between them, at the moment, and she knew that – at some point or another – their avoidance of their underlying issue would have to be brought to a halt, but Regina wasn't willing to sacrifice their friendship in the mean time. She would do all that she could to maintain it, assuming Emma would let her, or even that the sheriff wanted that.

Emma nodded slowly. "I don't know how much help I'll be, since I know exactly fuck-all about magic, but I can try."

"Then I'll expect you back here at seven in the morning, Sheriff," Regina instructed.

"Seven?" Emma gaped. "Are you serious?"

"Well, I'd assumed you would enjoy breakfast with our son," Regina raised her left eyebrow expectantly. "And, as he has school tomorrow, breakfast must fall before that, no?"

Emma grumbled nonsensically before she stood up and grabbed her keys from the coffee table, leveling a relatively playful glare at the mayor. "If you're expecting sunshine and rainbows from me at seven in the morning, Madame Mayor, you better disillusion yourself of that _real_ quick."

Laughing, and feeling a relief from the overwhelming intensity of her emotions from the course of the evening, Regina assured, "I'm well aware of your ill temper in the mornings, dear. I'll try to keep my expectations to a minimum."

* * *

_Author's Note: _I hope you guys enjoyed this. Regina's headspace is harder for me to get into than Emma's, for whatever reason, but let me know if I've done it well enough. Please review; I know I say it often, but it truly helps - not only with personal morale and quicker updates, but they also tell me what I'm doing wrong or need to improve upon. If you guys have questions, feel free to ask; those help me work out any potential kinks in my story, so I welcome them! : )


	7. The Breakfast

Come six o'clock the next morning, Emma was more irritable than even _she_ could have anticipated.

She was still tired, and still had hardly slept. Her mind had sputtered and whirred and chinked and chugged all night long, replaying the previous evening on an endless loop until 'exhaustion' barely began to cover what Emma was feeling.

The one thought that resounded firmly consisted solely of two words: _Regina knows._

Emma couldn't believe she'd allowed her resentment that much control. She couldn't believe she'd outed her own feelings at all, let alone so _bluntly_. Because Emma had left absolutely _no_ room for misinterpretation on her feelings; she had made it very, irrevocably clear that she was helplessly in love with the mayor of Storybrooke.

Emma covered her face with her pillow and released a long, heartfelt groan.

What an _idiot_. Who even does that?

Emma was then reconsidering every insult that Regina had ever thrown at her, and assessing each for its validity – because she could certainly see herself as Regina did, just then. She could see herself as nothing more than an infuriating street urchin with a penchant for ill timing, and Emma did not love herself for it.

Regina wasn't Emma's to love; she was Robin's. And Emma had received a startlingly painful reminder of that when she'd found the damn bastard on Regina's front porch the night before. Though things between them had hardly seemed pleasant at the time, the fact that Robin had shown up at all demonstrated his feelings for Regina.

He wanted to be sure that she was alright.

Emma knew it was awful of her to think it, but she was mildly proud and not a bit smug about the fact that _she_ had been the one to hold Regina when the quake had struck. Perhaps that made her a terrible person, but it was still true.

Sighing, Emma relented to herself that it didn't actually _matter_. Regina was still Robin's, and the only thing that Emma could do with that – and with her stupid, _stupid_ decision to share her goddamn feelings – was to keep moving forward as she had before. Not that what she'd been doing before (pining, if she was honest) was particularly healthy, or anything.

But it wasn't like Emma could turn her feelings off.

Still, though, Emma knew she had to try. Regina was her friend, if nothing else, and Emma had never really been fortunate enough to have many of those. She wouldn't lose the woman altogether, so if she had to pretend like her feelings were nonexistent, then she would.

If not for herself, then Emma could do that for Henry.

Which was, Emma admitted privately, a stupid excuse. Emma would do it for herself, and she would do it for Regina, because nothing good would come of anything else.

Resolved, Emma shoved the pillow away with some unnecessary force and pattered her way to the bathroom for a shower.

* * *

Emma rapped her knuckles against the mayor's door and shifted her phone to balance between her ear and her shoulder while she shuffled her keys into her pocket, crossly folding her arms across her chest.

When Regina slipped the door open, it was with a scowl and a gesture with her hands that clearly read, _'Why the hell did you knock so soon if you were clearly on the phone?'_

Rolling her eyes, Emma sighed, parted her lips to speak, then closed them shut as her jaw clenched.

"_Leroy_," Emma snapped unforgivingly down the line, "I don't have any fucking clue what happened last night. I don't know how many different times or ways I can express that to you, or to anyone else… No… No, I have to go. Regina's helping me look into all this crap… _What?_… Fucking- _No_, Leroy! I can't talk to Sneezy, or Doc, _or_ Dopey, okay? I can't meet you at the diner, and I can't meet you at the station, either… Because I'm busy trying to figure out what the hell is going on in this town! You can feel free to pass that message along to anyone you come across at the diner, too, because I will be sending literally _everyone_ who calls me straight to voicemail until I have some goddamn answers. Good_bye_," she snarled, jamming her thumb against the 'end' button considerably more harshly than the touch screen required before shoving it into her back pocket.

Regina raised her brows, but held the door open as Emma slumped through it.

"Rough morning, Sheriff?"

"Oh, you have _no_ idea," Emma growled. "I've never been so happy to remember to put my phone on silent in my entire life. I woke up to thirty-two missed calls, and more text messages than I'm willing to count, all demanding an explanation for that freak show we were so generously treated to last night. And, obviously, I don't _have_ an explanation, so I don't know what to tell them. And yet," Emma puffed out, aggravated, "that somehow doesn't stop them from finding even more questions to ask."

"The life of the Savior," Regina chuckled, shaking her head. "Not so glorious after all, hm?"

Emma cringed at the title, but shook it off with a roll of her shoulders.

"Sorry," Emma sighed, deflating.

"Whatever for, dear?" Regina frowned, waving a negligent hand toward a stool at the island counter of the kitchen for Emma to sit in as she moved toward the stove, presumably to flip the bacon in the pan.

She could still feel the weight of her phone – magnified, somehow, by the pressure she felt the device (and the town) were placing upon her – so Emma roughly pulled it from her jeans and dropped it to the counter as if it had burnt her.

"Uh," Emma laughed hollowly, "venting at you, I guess. It probably wasn't the greatest way of saying 'thanks for inviting me to breakfast,' huh?"

"Emma," Regina began cautiously, as the sheriff watched the back of her shoulders visibly turn rigid, "it is becoming quite evident to me that you- have quite a bit going on in that blonde head of yours."

Regina paused, and Emma flicked her eyes to the granite countertop in front of her.

That was an understatement and a _half_, but even the slight reference to Emma's feelings for Regina was enough to have the Savior itching to run; to hide away in a hole somewhere, never to be found, and never to feel this sort of utter embarrassment again, ever.

"It's alright, Emma," Regina husked softly, like she'd mulled over the words for several moments before deciding upon them, but still felt them too emotional to be comfortable voicing.

"Sure," Emma snorted. "Thanks," she said dryly.

"Emma," Regina sighed, exasperatedly turning from the stove and weakly offering her hands in front of her in a rather helpless gesture that Emma felt didn't suit her at all.

"Don't," Emma shook her head, then scratched the back of her neck while she searched for the words that she needed, eventually folding her arms and resting her elbows against the counter when her mind took far too long to formulate sentences.

Regina remained still, and silent, aside from the slight movement she took to lower the heat over the stove.

It's not like Emma hadn't thought about the possibility of Regina bringing it up. And, because she was Regina, it really was _not_ surprising that she had managed to do it so subtly, while still making her intent to discuss it very clear. But Emma had no such intentions.

"Look," she huffed, finally, "I know that it's not realistic to suggest that we forget about what happened last night, okay? I know that can't happen, because now it's out there, and it's- you know…" Emma shrugged listlessly. "Well, it is what it is. But you're with Robin, and I get that, okay? And things between us… Well, I guess they aren't going as well as I thought they were, but – "

"_Regina, do you trust _anyone_ whose heart you don't hold in your hand?"_

"_No," Regina had sneered back. "I do not."_

Emma shut her eyes tightly against the burn that threatened to become far more than she was willing to reveal, and she shook her head, forcing herself to continue in spite of the painful memory.

"But whatever we have right now is good enough for me, okay?" Emma trucked onward. "It's good for Henry, and I may be wrong or assuming things when I shouldn't, or whatever, but I think it's good for you, too," Emma said quietly.

_And I can't even think about living without you in my life, somehow, _Emma thought sadly, _so, there's that._

"It's just- there's no pressure for you to do anything about what I said, and we never, _ever_ have to talk about it. Ever. Okay? I'm not – " Emma clenched her fingers around her biceps tightly, nails biting into the skin there, before she took a deep breath and finished the thought. "I'm not standing in your way, alright? I don't want that. If you're happy with him…" Emma swallowed the burgeoning clot of emotions in her throat, "then I'm not standing in your way. You deserve your happy ending, or whatever, and I'm not going to keep you from having it.

"So, no, you can't forget about last night, and I won't ever forget what a colossal idiot I was, either – but we don't have to discuss it, and it doesn't have to change anything. I don't want it to. Let's just leave it at that, okay?" Emma looked up, finally, locking beseeching green eyes onto Regina's wet, conflicted ones.

"I – "

Emma wasn't sure if she was grateful for the interruption of Henry's hammering stomps down the stairs, or irritated by it, but she offered Regina a tense smile just before their son bounded into the kitchen and drew to a sharp halt.

"Emma!" He cried happily. "What are you doing here? Did Mom let you stay the night?"

Coughing slightly, Emma exchanged a small, worried glance with Regina.

"Henry, have a seat," Regina instructed tenderly, turning once more to pull the bacon from the pan and drop several slices of it onto the three plates set aside, already steaming with eggs and toast and homemade apple jam.

Despite her unfinished talk with Regina, and despite the one that they now had to plow through with Henry – who had no idea, yet, about the earthquake at all – Emma could practically feel herself drooling as Regina set the plate before her. Henry, however, lingered cautiously in the doorway, swaying back and forth as though tempted to both run back to his room, and step forward to demand answers.

"Am I in trouble?" He asked quietly, flicking questioning, suspicious eyes between both of his mothers.

"No, Henry," Emma chuckled, then flattened her mouth into a stern line. "Unless you did something bad that you need to tell us about?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Henry's eyes widened to the size of quarters as he vigorously shook his head. "I've been good, I promise!" He vowed fervently. "I get to see you both, so I haven't been sneaking around, and I know you don't like me hanging out with Dad, but – "

"Henry, my love," Regina sighed softly, "you aren't in trouble. Emma was just teasing you."

Emma offered Henry a sheepish grin when he scowled at her, but he stepped closer, anyway, and she affectionately curled her arm around his neck in a headlock. Henry tried to escape, still pouting and grumbling about Emma's attempt to trick him into fessing up to something bad.

Honestly, though, Emma was grateful that he _hadn't_ fessed up to anything. She had enough on her plate as it was, and – with the reminder of yet another unfinished conversation about their son's father – Emma was already feeling overwhelmed. She did feel badly about causing his panic, though.

"Sorry, kid," she murmured softly. "I promise you're not in trouble. Your mom and I just have to talk to you about something."

"Miss Swan," Regina said, sounding awfully impressed as Emma frowned her bemusement, "I do believe I've actually managed to _teach_ you something."

"Huh?" Emma scrunched her face up, confused.

Henry giggled. "You said 'your mom and I,'" he snickered, before it developed into a sincere laugh that erupted from his belly. "You used good grammar."

_Oh, _Emma realized.

She shrugged. "I'm a slow learner, but stuff sinks in, eventually."

"I'll keep that in mind," Regina returned, smiling softly at the pair of them.

_God_. If that smile was any sweeter, Emma was pretty sure that Regina would have banned the expression from her own damn face just to prevent Henry (or, more likely, _Emma_) from developing cavities.

Emma swallowed thickly and offered a lazy grin in return, shrugging with mild discomfort.

It didn't exactly thrill her that she was being so consistently evaluated by the mayor for her grammar – a thought that had emerged more than once in the past. It made her feel judged, and, occasionally, belittled. She didn't think Regina intended it – at least, not anymore; not in quite some time, really – but that didn't change the way that Emma felt.

She didn't want Regina to think poorly of her.

That being said, Emma felt a glow of pride emerge that threatened to wipe away her tension from earlier, altogether. Emma would invest in a fucking Rosetta-Stone and fall asleep to it every night just to show off her mastery of the English language, if learning to speak properly earned her smiles like that more often.

"So…" Henry drawled, shoving Emma's arm from his shoulder with a now-playful huff as he jumped up into the bar stool beside her, "what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Henry," Regina sighed softly, that striking smile fading fast from her lips and leaving a vacancy in Emma's heart that she wasn't sure she knew how to fill again, "something happened last night."

Emma rolled her eyes, mouthing the ensuing question silently to her plate at the same time as Henry gave voice to it.

"Something like what?"

Emma glanced upward, feeling the familiar burn of Regina's eyes boring into her with a harsh glare. The sheriff shrugged.

"What?" She demanded, spearing a bite of egg and shoving it into her mouth, tucking it into her cheek as she spoke. "Of course he was going to ask, Regina. Could you _be_ any more vague?"

"Guys!" Henry interrupted, amused but clearly concerned, too. "What happened?"

"Something big, kid," Emma confessed. "Like, earthquake big."

"_Like_ an earthquake? Or it _was_ an earthquake?" Henry demanded, frowning.

"Sorta both?" Emma decided hesitantly, ignoring so hard that he sounded _so much_ like Regina, just then. "I mean, it was an earthquake for sure; the ground shook and everything fell and all of that, but…"

"But…?" Henry pressed impatiently.

"There was- magic was involved," Regina murmured softly, tucking her hair behind her ear and avoiding Henry's gaze.

And Emma's, too.

"Did you do it?" Henry asked, both immediately and seriously.

From her position beside him, Emma could hear his teeth grinding together, and it made her cringe. Or maybe his words did.

Probably that second one.

"No," Regina deflated, but lifted her eyes to meet his, allowing him to assess her sincerity. "No, Henry, I didn't."

Henry evaluated her with skeptical eyes, but the look slowly receded before he nodded and lowered his head.

He didn't apologize for his automatic assumption, but neither of his mothers really expected that of him. If nothing else, Emma considered, Henry was _their_ son; nature or nurture didn't exactly matter when each of the boy's mothers invested equally as much stock in pride as the other, so at least Henry came by his quite honestly.

Still, it broke Emma's heart that he hadn't assumed Regina's innocence. She _knew_, in all honesty, that _she_ was probably the foolish one – never having doubted Regina for a second – but that didn't mean anything. Not really. Henry was Regina's son, and, though she had been the Evil Queen once, Emma didn't know how the mayor could make it any clearer that she had no desire to be that again.

Emma knew it would take more time, and they had come a long way, already, but she silently renewed her vow to help Regina to build Henry's trust.

"She was with me the whole time, Henry," Emma tendered slowly. "But, even if she wasn't, your mom doesn't have any business doing magic like that anymore, and I don't think she wants to."

"You don't know that," Henry set his jaw stubbornly.

Emma frowned at him, and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I don't. But you could ask."

Henry mulled over the words for a few moments, but when he finally looked up at Regina, it wasn't with accusation, but with curiosity.

"Do you?" He inquired softly. "Wanna make bad magic, still, I mean?"

Regina swallowed thickly. "No," she shook her head. "I- No. Don't misunderstand, though, Henry," she said shamefully, bowing her head. "I am not good. But I- I _am_ trying. For you. I'm trying. I can't promise you more than that."

Henry gnawed thoughtfully at his lower lip before he nodded. "Thanks."

Regina's eyes met Emma's, confusion bleeding through brown orbs and into Emma's own, but this? This Emma understood perfectly. Her life was chaotic and crazy and completely out of hand, right now, but she understood Henry's gratitude, because he was thanking Regina for something that Emma had very frequently wished of everyone she'd encountered as a child.

So Emma smiled reassuringly and nodded for Regina to ask the question burning at the tip of her tongue.

"Thanks for what, exactly?" Regina ventured hesitantly, casting her gaze between Emma and Henry as if waiting for the great cosmic joke to fall upon her.

"For telling me the truth," Henry nodded resolutely.

He then shoveled half a slice of toast into his mouth, all at once, and even _Emma_ found that grotesque. But, after he had finished chewing enough, he grinned at them with toast crumbs flaking against the corners of his mouth and jam slathered all around it, and asked, "So, you don't know who did it, right?"

"Kid, I can't even take you seriously right now," Emma rolled her eyes and thrust her napkin at his face. "Wipe your mouth, or Regina will totally Mom out and probably spit on her thumb to clean your whole face."

"I would do no such thing," Regina scoffed instantly.

"Yes you would," Henry and Emma chimed synchronically, incredulous that she would even _try_ to deny it.

Regina released a choked sound of annoyance, just as Emma and Henry high-fived beneath the granite cover of the counter.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ So, first things first... I started at a new job today, so I'm not sure how frequent or rare updates are going to be for a while. I'll do the best I can, and it doesn't _seem_ like it's going to get too hectic, but I'm giving you fair warning, just in case. Secondly, all that angst was making my heart hurt. While there was still a fair amount of it, I did try to end it on a pretty fluffily note. I hope it left you in a bit lighter spirits than last chapter. I tried, guys. :P


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